Public Enemy, Undercover Lover
by Crimson1
Summary: Barry and Len's relationship evolves into something beyond nemeses beginning with several very public acts of sexual discovery.
1. Think anyone would notice

This started as a tumblr prompt, and I think I'm going to have ALL of my current tumblr prompts play into this same 'verse. It's own little perverse fic, if you will.

* * *

 **Think anyone would notice if I slipped my hand down your pants?**

* * *

Barry settled into his seat at the table in the back and slumped. Sure, this was his case, but he didn't really need to be here for this briefing. He'd already gone over all of the samples, just needed to wait on a few more tests to finish. He probably already knew every detail Singh was about to go over, and it would take at least a half hour before he got back to the lab to catch up on actual work.

The lights in the room being off while Singh pulled up the reports and images for the detectives and officers present didn't help either. Barry had made the mistake of dozing off during one of these briefings before, and Singh was not forgiving.

Another latecomer slid into the seat beside Barry, boxing him against the wall. He glanced aside to see who it was, but only caught the slight hint of jawline with the way the officer had his hat tipped so low. It was rare for any of the officers to wear their hats around the precinct.

After a couple minutes, Barry let himself sink back into his chair and sigh.

"Nothing to pique your interest?" the man beside him said.

Something about that voice was familiar. Barry looked, but the officer still had his hat low, his chin dipped, most of his face obscured, especially with the dim lighting. Was he a rookie?

"I've just been over all this already. I'm Barry Allen, CSI." He extended his hand. "Unless we've met before?"

"Oh," the man grasped Barry's hand firmly and tilted his head up just enough…to reveal Leonard Snart's smirking face, "I think we're well acquainted."

"Cold!" Barry hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?!" He tried to tug his hand away, but Cold released him slowly, dragging his fingers across the back of Barry's hand as he did so.

"Shhh, wouldn't want to draw any attention, now would we? We have a deal."

Barry repressed a grumble, as well as a shiver at the way Cold's cool fingers had felt against his skin. "Our deal doesn't involve you sneaking into the precinct. What do you want?"

Cold turned back to the presentation with a small smile on his lips.

"Don't tell me you had something to do with this case?" Barry asked.

"No. Someone beat me to the punch. Figured I'd do a little recon, see if their methods were worth learning from or avoiding. Have any leads yet?"

"I am not sharing information with you about an ongoing case."

"That's a no then. Maybe I _can_ learn something."

Barry scoffed, but he caught Captain Singh shoot him a glare and decided he better end this conversation before he actually brought any attention down on Cold.

"You seem tense, Scarlet," Cold said after a few minutes of Barry trying to relax in his seat and ignore Cold's presence.

"Can't imagine why," Barry grumbled.

"To be honest, Flash, I was mostly just bored today. Maybe we can help each other out. It's only to your benefit to keep me distracted, after all, and you seem like you could use some…tension relief."

Barry frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

Cold's expression turned predatory, lingering as he glanced down Barry's body. "We're in the back, Barry. Alone. In the dark. At a table that can easily conceal any dirty deeds we might do. Think anyone would notice if I slipped my hand down your pants?"

Barry honestly didn't know how he kept from yelping when Cold's palm slid across his knee as he said that. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Do you want me to be joking?"

"I…" Barry's brain took a moment to reboot. "Wait." He clamped his hand down on Cold's, already halfway between his thighs in the time he'd taken to respond. "You're serious?"

Cold licked his lips and batted the long lashes of his blue, blue eyes. "How much longer will the dear captain be?"

"T-Twenty minutes?"

"Think you'll last that long?"

"Highly doubtful." Oh, god, what was Barry doing? He could already feel himself hardening from the mere thought of this, from the way Cold looked at him, the low husk of his voice, the way his fingers dug into Barry's thigh and then slid further between his legs when Barry's own hand released him.

"Then let's see how long you do last," Cold grinned. He reached both hands over to undo Barry's pants, let one slide down inside to grip him through his boxers. "Mmm…seems you're warmed up already."

"Oh god…" Barry bit his lip to keep from moaning as Cold squeezed.

"Want me to stop?"

Barry hesitated, shook his head. He turned to look forward, to pretend he was paying attention to what Singh said, and Cold did the same beside him, as that hand beneath the table, down Barry's pants, touching him, _touching_ him, kept moving. Soon it snuck up to the elastic of his shorts, teased the skin, slid deftly beneath and then—shit. Cold was touching him skin on skin. If this was some awful trick to get Barry in serious trouble at the station, or honestly just to get information on a case Barry maybe should be working slightly harder to prevent Cold from learning about, it was worth it.

If Cold really was just bored, just wanted an excuse to see Barry, to offer this—well that was interesting to say the least, and later Barry would have to ask him how long he'd been thinking about this.

Barry bit back his moans, had no choice, but the hitch to his breathing was impossible to hide. He felt fire in his cheeks, burning with embarrassment and desire, but nothing compared to the heat building in his belly. Cold knew just how to stroke him, the right pressure, an occasional twirl of his thumb through the precum forming at his tip, making Barry slick and wet in his palm.

Cold didn't speak, though Barry got the feeling he wanted to, would have egged him on more, if too much conversation wouldn't have risked bringing more attention on them. The Rogue just stared ahead, that sly smirk in place, while his hand moved, and Barry gasped, breathing harsher and deeper until he could feel himself getting close.

He had no idea anything Singh had said for the past ten minutes. He gripped the sides of his chair.

"What if I slipped away quietly right now, Scarlet, and left you hard and weeping?" Cold whispered, his hand slowing, pausing, sliding away.

"Don't you dare!" Barry growled.

Cold chuckled darkly…but thankfully, his hand returned and picked up the pace, tight, pumping harder, faster. "You're going to owe me for this."

"Ugnn…" Barry nodded, knowing he'd regret going along with this so easily, but he just wanted to finish, needed to come so badly.

And then shit—he was shaking, vibrating, just his hands and his hips a little, but Cold noticed, paused again briefly with his head slightly cocked, before continuing. When Barry came, he'd swear a shudder ran all through him that blurred his entire body for a moment.

"Shit," Cold huffed beside him.

"Mmm," Barry agreed.

Cold pulled his hand away, taking most of the mess with him, and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket to clean it off unseen. Barry closed his eyes and just sat there numbly, enjoying the buzz of the aftermath.

"Like I said…you owe me. And damn, Scarlet, I can think of so many requests now that I know what you can do."

Barry's mind was in too much of a haze to do anything but nod.

"Allen, have I put you to sleep again?" Singh's voice brought him abruptly back to reality.

"No, sir!" Barry said on instinct, flushing furiously as he opened his eyes and righted himself, so very glad for the dark and table.

"I would hope not," Singh glared at him, and continued where he'd left off.

Barry glanced to the side, but Cold was long gone, having slipped away unnoticed. He waited until no one was looking at him anymore before he discreetly did up his pants. He'd definitely have to keep a look out for Cold next time. And it really, really should have bothered him how much he looked forward to whenever that might be.

* * *

TBC...


	2. Do you think anyone can see us

Barry's first encounter with Cold after receiving an unexpected hand job in the precinct involves two rooftops, a stone gargoyle, and the first time he's ever been eager to do anything and everything Cold tells him to.

* * *

 **Do you think anyone can see us from all the way up here?**

* * *

"Okay, Cisco, have a good night," Barry signed off, before hearing the telltale click of the coms disconnecting from the S.T.A.R. Labs end.

He'd zipped up the side of one of the tallest buildings in the city to get a nice, clear view of the streets and any possible disturbances to finish out the night, but everything looked peaceful, nothing over the police radios that couldn't easily be handled by actual police, and frankly Barry was exhausted. The night's patrol had been grueling, but satisfying, and after taking a few minutes to relax, he planned to take a cue from Cisco and Caitlin and head home.

For now though he sat down sideways along the edge of the roof, back leaning against a stone gargoyle he had taken to calling Bruce, since it reminded him of the one Spider-man used to always have one-sided conversations with in the 90s cartoon. Barry was totally allowed to love another superhero in red. He never understood why the web-slinger named the gargoyle Bruce though.

"Not too shabby of a city, eh, Bruce?" Barry said.

The night was cool but still pleasantly warm for Fall weather, the night sky clear, the sounds of the city lulling him into a pleasant near-doze on the rooftop. He even closed his eyes a moment when he heard a sudden flicker of static over the coms. He hadn't turned them off on his end yet.

"Really, Cisco, what is it?" Barry said, barely peeking out again at the city. "I am so ready to hit the nearest mattress."

"That an invitation?"

Barry gripped the edges of the roof, nearly toppling off the narrow ledge in alarm. "Cold?! How did you—"

"Hartley Rathaway is rather handy, it turns out. And apparently quite eager to infiltrate any systems managed by our dear Cisco. Seems we're all alone, Flash."

A flutter of nerves stirred in Barry's stomach. He hadn't seen Cold since their encounter at the precinct. He still couldn't believe he'd allowed Cold to touch him, let alone allowed such intimate skin on skin contact in a crowded room of his coworkers. The memory of Cold's hand on him had kept him company though, and pleasantly occupied for several nights the past few weeks.

Barry relaxed against Bruce, still looking to his left out at the city beyond. "What do you want, Cold? Yeah, we're alone. Cisco and Caitlin signed off for the night."

"Not exactly what I meant."

Barry frowned. The sudden feeling of being watched crept over him and he turned his head, his attention finally facing the direction of his body.

Captain Cold stood at the ledge of the next building over, fully decked out in his gear, though his hood was back, his goggles pulled down around his neck, the cold gun nowhere in sight, though likely clipped to the inside of his parka. He waved at Barry with a curl of his gloved fingers, smirk firmly in place.

The buildings were only three to four meters apart, enough for a narrow alley to exist below, though the drop was still significant, and jumping across would require some nerves of steel. Not that Barry wasn't more than capable with his speed.

He stared in shock at how Cold had managed to sneak up on him, right in his line of sight if only he'd been looking forward instead of out at the city beyond Bruce's watchful stare.

"So now I have to worry about you infringing on my favorite perches too?" Barry said, deciding to let his nerves about seeing Cold again fade into amusement rather than anxiety. At least until the other man reached for his gun.

"Happened to be in the building when I decided to try out Piper's new gadget," Cold said in a low enough voice that Barry only heard him over the coms, not from across the building, even though they were quite close. "Cuts into the signal but also tracks it. So I followed it up. Thought you were on this roof, not one over."

"Disappointed?" Barry challenged. "You don't look ready for a fight."

"Who said I was looking to fight tonight, Barry?" He made a point to drift his gaze slowly down the length of Barry's body, stretched out as it was along the ledge of the other roof, feet sprawled forward, back propped against Bruce.

Barry shuddered under that familiar stare. He should put an end to this now. Tell Cold off, tell him it was never happening again, and zip away. But even just the thought of Cold's touch, in public like that while still in secret, shot a little thrill through him. He made a point to spread his legs just slightly, but didn't respond.

Cold rumbled over the coms with a husky chuckle. "You do owe me one, Flash."

" _If_ I agreed with that…what would you want?"

"What do you think?"

Heat climbed slowly up Barry's neck, his suit suddenly feeling tight and constricting. "Did you…want me to come over there?"

"No, Barry," Cold's voice went lower, a whisper meant only for him, even if there was no one else around to hear anyway. "I want you to come right where you are."

 _Shit_.

Barry was hard just from that, from the sound of Cold's voice and the promises of what he was asking for. Barry resisted the urge to touch himself now through the suit, but didn't try to hide the way the fabric between his legs started to strain.

Cold looked right at that telling sign, at how hard Barry was growing from nothing more than his intense gaze and teasing words, then flicked his eyes to Barry's face. "I am going to tell you what to do, and I expect you to follow my instructions exactly."

Barry choked back a whimper. How was he this turned on already? "Or what?" he asked, almost adding 'you'll punish me?'. _Fuck_ , he wondered how Cold _would_ punish him…

Cold drew the gun from out of his parka.

Barry laughed, knowing by the way Cold grinned and didn't aim the weapon at him directly that he was mostly bluffing.

"And just think, if I'm here, I can't be out stealing anything tonight, now, can I?"

"I suppose that's true," Barry said, just tired enough to be compliant. He shifted his hips, let his legs drop open another inch. "What do you want me to do?"

"Stay just like that." Cold placed his gun on the ledge in plain view. "Take off your gloves. Then start to unzip the suit. Slowly. Don't do anything more unless I tell you to."

A pulse shot down Barry's body to his groin. This was a terrible (wonderful) idea. He couldn't seem to say no. Cold was alone, and Barry would know if he tried to go for the gun. They were even on separate rooftops. There was no threat, no danger.

Barry removed his gloves, dropped them down onto the roof, and reached for the zipper of the suit up at his neck. Slowly, which was a difficult concept for him most days, he drew it down inch by inch, hesitating when he got to his navel.

"Do you think anyone can see us from all the way up here?"

"Anything is possible, Scarlet. You can keep the mask on."

Barry swallowed, kept his eyes on Cold across from him, rapt with attention on what Barry was doing, and kept unzipping. He paused as he got to the belt and could go no further.

"Take it off. Show me how far that zipper goes."

Barry nodded, undoing the belt so he could bring the zipper all the way down, spanning the length of a normal fly on a pair of pants. His cock was still trapped within the confines of the not-leather, but it was obvious he had nothing else on underneath.

"No underwear, Barry?" Cold asked with a crook to his grin. He stood at the end of the other roof, all of him visible from the waist up, the cold gun a good foot to his right.

Barry bit his lip, shook his head. Underwear didn't work well with the suit. He wanted to pull himself out, felt pained by the pressure now, how hard he was, how much he needed to be free, to be touched, but Cold hadn't given him an order to do that yet. His mind buzzed with all the things Cold might ask of him, and the last thing he wanted was to interrupt that.

"You want to touch yourself, don't you?" Cold asked.

Barry nodded again.

Cold's eyes took in his bare, revealed chest, his hips, his hands twitching at his sides to touch something, anything, and the bulge still somewhat hidden. "My only regret about last time, kid, is I didn't get to see you. You felt amazing, but mmm…now I want a clear picture. Show me."

The quick dart of Cold's gaze to Barry's eyes, holding there, watching him, before he glanced again to Barry's hand reaching into the suit, shot another pulse between his legs. He pulled himself free of the suit's restriction, careful around the edges of the zipper, and held himself in his hand for Cold to see—fuck, for Cold to _see_ , looking at Barry hungrily, out in the open, on a rooftop, where someone could so easily see what they were doing—and dragged his thumb down the length.

"Stop," Cold ordered, voice suddenly harsh, jerking Barry to a halt as he looked up fearfully at the tone, only to catch Cold's blank stare immediately soften. "I didn't say you could do that. Wait to be told, sweetheart, or you'll ruin the game."

Barry wanted to snap, make some snide remark, banter back at least, but as his fear subsided, his desire strengthened, chasing away his irritation. He didn't want to ruin the game either—it was a game, always a game with them, just never before with these sorts of stakes. Barry liked this so much better than dodging blasts from the cold gun.

He sighed, stilled his hand, calmed his burst of frustration, and waited.

"Good boy," Cold said. "You do this right for me, next time you call the shots. Anything you want."

 _Oh yes please_ , Barry thought, and shit, he should not be planning a next time when he shouldn't be allowing anything this time, shouldn't have allowed a first time! But the flutter of desire in his belly was too strong, too good.

"You look so wet, Barry, I can see it from here."

Barry looked down, though he could feel it already, the precum dribbling over his fingers.

"Just for me, hm? You like me watching you like this, don't you?"

Another whimper fell from Barry's lips, louder this time, clearer over the coms. He looked up, caught Cold's stare again, and fuck, the man was right, the feel of his eyes on him was almost, almost as good as being touched. He did still want to touch himself though, so badly.

"Answer when I ask you a question, Barry."

Barry swallowed. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I like having your eyes on me. Like this. Holding my cock."

Cold hummed low. "Yes, you do, don't you? You can touch yourself now, but slow. Very slow."

Even at a gradual pace, the first pass of Barry's fingers down his shaft was heaven, picking up the wetness, curling around his tip, his thumb passing more firmly, and then finishing the stroke toward the base.

"Tell me, Barry, how pliant is that suit?"

"What?" Barry's arm trembled trying to keep his strokes from going as fast as he wanted to.

"Can you reach down beneath yourself with the suit still on?"

Barry frowned, thought about what Cold meant, and—oh. "I…no, it's one piece, I'd need to take it off, get my legs free."

"Then I want you to do that. Give yourself a few more strokes first…that's it. A little harder. _Harder_. Now stop. Get your bottom half out of the suit, so I can see."

Barry mourned the loss of his hand, wondered how much more likely someone might see and realize what was going on up here with his suit off, even if his cowl remained up, but then he realized he couldn't do it. The cowl was attached to the back of the neck. He couldn't remove his lower half without first taking off the cowl to shimmy out.

"Uhh…"

"You can use your speed, Barry," Cold said, "but in the end, if you want the mask to stay on, I want the rest of you visible. Whatever you need to do to accomplish that."

"Okay."

Barry took a breath to steel himself then flashed through the motions, lying on top of his suit when he had finished, boots left on, mask covering his face again, but the rest of him stark naked for Cold to rake his eyes down and devour.

Cold ran his tongue over his lips. "Good. Prop your knees up. Yeah…like that. What a view, kid. Now I want you to suck two fingers into your mouth and keep them there. Get them all wet until I tell you to stop."

The image of what Cold intended to have him do shook Barry, and he thought—no, he couldn't do that, not here, not out in the open like this. But then he really didn't want to disappoint Cold, to spoil whatever this was between them, and the nervous tension in every action, in every moment spent exposed, intensified the heat building and how good it felt.

Barry lifted his hand to his mouth.

"Slower."

He hesitated, moved at a more gradual pace, reached his mouth and parted his lips, sucking two fingers in as instructed, slow, _slow_ , mouth wide so Cold could see. He closed his lips around the fingers, letting the saliva build in his mouth to coat them.

"Now, now, you can take them deeper than that, can't you?" Cold's grin was insufferable, so unbearably sexy.

Barry groaned around his fingers. Took them in deeper, so that a little saliva leaked from the corners of his mouth.

"Mmm, that's better. You can stop. Make sure those fingers stay wet. You can guess what I'm going to ask you to do with them."

Barry opened his mouth, pulled his fingers free—slowly, knowing Cold would remind him again otherwise—then let them hover, waiting for orders.

"You learn quick, Flash. Good. Good… Bring those wet fingers down. Tease yourself a little, but don't press inside just yet."

Oh god, Barry was actually doing this. On a rooftop, exposed, in front of his nemesis—for his nemesis. He'd never been so hard, leaking more precum all over his thigh and the Flash suit beneath him.

He leaned further against the gargoyle at his back, spread his legs, touched his fingers to the budded skin, prodding at his entrance, stretching a little, just a little, but not letting even a fingertip slip inside.

Finally, Cold's smug expression faltered, his mouth going slack, watching Barry. He was too far away to see how blown his pupils might be, but Barry imagined them pure black.

"Now let one finger in, only the barest possible inch, slow as you can."

Barry whimpered again. Going this slow was torture, his gut on fire. He pressed in not quite to the first knuckle.

"Good. Keep going."

 _Thank god._

"Deeper, Barry. Stretch yourself. Let me see how much you like it."

"Ugnnn," Barry arched his neck back, closed his eyes, but no. He wanted to see Cold, wanted to watch those eyes on him.

"You're so beautiful, kid. Flawless. Add the other finger."

Barry whined eagerly at the first touch, stretching himself wider, starting to scissor, slowly, always so slowly. And as he lay there, balanced on the ledge of a familiar rooftop, he watched Cold lift his hands to the waist of his pants, and Barry lamented that they weren't on the same roof, imagining how different this could go if they were.

With meters of a straight drop down between them, Cold removed his gloves, pulled himself free of his thermal pants, took himself in hand, _stroked_. Barry wanted to touch him, touch himself, feel Cold's hands on him, something.

"Keep going, Barry. Deeper." Cold's voice growled over the coms, rough and quaking now.

Barry complied, pressing his wet fingers as deep inside of him as he could, finding his prostate, quivering as a vibrating shiver ran through him. "Cold..." he moaned.

"Wishing that was my cock inside you, Barry?"

"Yessss." His free hand twitched to touch his swollen, untouched erection. He moved his hand closer, eyes on Cold touching himself. "Can I...?

"Not yet."

Barry whined loudly. He moved his fingers faster inside of him to accommodate. It felt good, enjoying the way Cold looked at him, imagining Cold was the one touching him, but it wasn't enough. "Can I...can I vibrate then?"

Cold tilted his head, confused. "Thought you couldn't control that."

"I can…a little. Please..."

Cold stroked himself faster. "Vibrate what?"

"My f-fingers."

"You can...?" Cold grunted low. "Do it. Show me."

Barry moaned at the loss of his fingers as he pulled them free, lifted them up, willed them to blur with vibrations, then brought them back to his entrance, slipping them easily back inside. "Fuck!" He went straight for the sweet spot, thrusting his fingers deep.

"Shit, kid...fuck, you're incredible."

"Can I now...? _Please_."

"Yeah...yeah, touch yourself. But don't come. You come when I do."

Barry's hand on his cock was such a relief, he nearly sobbed.

"Slower."

And then he did sob, choked, because, "Please...please..." slow wasn't enough.

"Almost, Barry. Slow. Keep vibrating those fingers. Show me how open you are. How much you want it. You do want it, don't you? You want me to fuck you."

" _Please_..."

"Oh I will. Soon, I will. But tonight you need to come for me just like this. Faster now. Just a bit."

Barry sped up his hand, fingers inside him, eyes on Cold rapidly moving his own hand over his red and weeping cock.

"F-Faster." Cold's voice stuttered, hoarse. " _Faster_. Fast as you can, Barry."

Oh, Barry could do fast. His hand blurred with speed, and fuck, he was going to come.

"Not yet."

"Cold...!"

"Almost, Barry...almost. Now!" Cold's voice broke off in a cry as he came over his fingers.

Barry moaned at the sight, finally giving over to the sensations wracking through him and coming so hard, his vision darkened. He nearly swayed on the ledge, correcting himself so that if he did topple, he fell onto the roof instead of all those stories down to the ground.

He gasped, breathed deep, managed to stay upright, feeling so buzzed and sticky and oh god, there was cum all over his suit. He'd have to clean it thoroughly, or risk Cisco's wrath. The very idea made him giggle, drunk on endorphins.

Sluggishly, he let his eyes drift to the other roof again, on Cold looking blissed out, face a mask of pleased calm, hand still on his dwindling cock, just eating up every inch of Barry he could look at.

Barry would have blushed if he wasn't heated and flush from head to toe. He needed a shower, and in the aftermath, being out in the open completely nude save for his mask, started to creep up on him. "Can I get back in the suit now?" he asked, a little playfully, since the game was mostly over.

"Sure, kid."

By the time Cold tucked himself away, Barry had zipped back into his suit, replaced all of his discarded articles, and stood at the ledge across from Cold. He licked his lips looking at the other man. He wished they were closer. Wished he could…he didn't know what.

"So…I get to call the shots next time?" Barry grinned. "Maybe actually touch _you_?"

Cold hummed at the suggestion. He put on his gloves, flicked his eyes down Barry's body, lingering on the stains. "Wouldn't that be something? Looking forward to it. Be seeing you, Flash."

"Uh…yeah. That was…"

Cold paused as he hooked his cold gun back into his parka, looked up, raised an eyebrow at Barry expectantly.

"Steamy," Barry let his nerves fall into a smirk instead. "Cold and lightning go together better than I thought."

Cold chuckled. "Seems that way. Don't think I'll go easy on you if next time we meet under different circumstances."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Cold gave a little salute, turned on his heel, and started to walk away.

Barry sighed in barely contained pleasure, still buzzing, still so high on delightful sensations. He turned to look out at the city, glancing at the stone gargoyle he'd used as a pillow. He walked over and patted the side of his trusty sentinel.

"This one's just between us and the city, Bruce."

"Still hacked into your coms, Scarlet," Cold said with amusement.

Barry blushed and quickly turned them off.

* * *

TBC...


	3. Lift up your shirt, let me see

Hartley gets an earful when he listens to the recording of the hack into the Flash comms. A week later...he gets an eyeful to accompany it. Prompt: lift up your shirt, let me see.

* * *

Hartley settled into his chair to check the previous night's surveillance, and tuned his specially designed hearing aids into the program he'd created for Cold. One benefit to his situation was never needing headphones. He wished that brought him even a modicum of comfort. At least his new companions never made him feel like something lesser for his supposed handicap—his power that could be used against him as much as others.

He preferred this safe house, though, and its less frequent foot traffic of fellow Rogues. It was also the most likely place for Cold to crash. Not that Hartley was harboring a crush on his frigid leader, but the man was pleasant to look at.

Hartley had received high praise for hacking into Team Flash's comm system. He'd told Cold it wasn't much of a challenge, but that hadn't been entirely true. Cisco's firewalls and looping interface had been a pain to hack. Hartley had almost feared he'd fail, but just when frustration had been about to claim him, he'd had a breakthrough.

He hadn't yet mentioned to Cold that he also set up a standard recording for the hack, in case anything useful came over the line. It was easy enough to sift through the files for actual chatter, then listen in for anything of value.

With nothing better to do, Hartley listened at intervals to the previous night's patrol, skipping any lengthy stretches of silence. Nothing worth sharing with Cold. He heard Flash sign off for the night, Cisco cutting out, the comms going quiet, but then noticed that the recording kept going. He continued to listen, wondering if something had come up, surprised when a new voice joined The Flash.

"I am so ready to hit the nearest mattress."

"That an invitation?"

Cold.

Hartley sat up in his chair. The room was dark, only lit by a lamp on the computer desk. He liked the cave-like feel, the seclusion and privacy. At the moment, it made him feel like a younger version of himself, being a delinquent in the privacy of his bedroom where his parents rarely checked on him.

How was it that Cold and Flash spoke so familiarly with each other? Cold even called him by name—Barry. Barry Allen, Hartley recalled. CSI. Everyone knew Cold knew Flash's identity, but no one knew Hartley did. Maybe it was just fuel to the fire of their banter, calling Flash by his real name.

"If I agreed with that…what would you want?"

"What do you think?"

"Did you…want me to come over there?"

"No, Barry, I want you to come right where you are."

Hartley turned the volume up, shifting in his seat. He had to have heard that wrong. But the teasing continued. Laughter. Innuendo after innuendo that was more than mere words. And then…

"Take off your gloves. Then start to unzip the suit. Slowly. Don't do anything more unless I tell you to."

Holy shit. Hartley was hot under the collar from mere seconds of this. No wonder Cold had wanted to hack Team Flash's comm system. He was fucking his hero.

"Show me how far that zipper goes."

Hartley turned the volume up another notch.

"No underwear, Barry?"

Slid his hands into his lap.

"You want to touch yourself, don't you?"

Reached for his zipper…

"What are you doing?"

Hartley jumped at the sudden, close voice of someone in the room with him, slamming his finger down on the PAUSE button and thanking every deity that might exist that he hadn't been listening from the main speakers. "Cold!" he exclaimed when he turned back and saw the man standing, arms crossed, a mere foot behind him in the dark office.

"That recording, what is it?"

"Uh…it's, uh…"

"From last night? Did you record the interface with the Flash comms?" His perfect, chiseled features were rigid, body tense as if ready to spring into action—and throttle Hartley right where he sat.

"Yes?" Hartley sputtered like a hesitant question more than affirmation.

No one had ever made him feel so small and powerless, not even his father at his meekest, weakest moments before finding the strength to leave his parents. Cold carried himself only as he wanted others to see him. He could be a block of ice, or a welcoming confidant eager to take care of his own, for those loyal and useful enough anyway, but even his smiles had an edge to them.

Hartley had never wanted to please someone so much—because Cold only asked that he be useful to the team with what he had. He didn't ask for more than Hartley could give. Didn't ask him to be anything but who he was.

Hartley had nowhere to go. Nowhere he belonged. The Rogues were the only family he had left.

All at once the hardness in Cold melted. His arms dropped. "Hart, I have one rule. Full-disclosure. Mick shuns my advice and orders, but he tells me so. We move on from it. Lisa makes her own plans, but she informs me of them. Honesty trumps ambition here. You remain useful and earn your keep, you're one of us, regardless. But lie to me…"

"It's from the Flash comms," Hartley spoke up quickly, confidently now to belie his fears. "From last night. His conversation with you."

Cold, still relaxed but calculating in his stare, moved forward and pivoted as he reached Hartley to lean back against the desk. "And what did you learn from what you heard?"

Hartley swallowed, the urge to lie warring within him, but decided to be honest as Cold had asked. "That you're sleeping with him."

A resigned sigh. Maybe the truth wasn't the right answer. "You heard me use his name?"

"I already knew his name."

Cold tilted his head. "Did you now? And you're aware of my policy on that?"

"I won't tell anyone."

"About—"

"His identity, or what I heard."

Cold nodded. "Good." He turned toward the computer screen, selected the file Hartley had opened, and deleted it. Then cleaned out the trash bin. "Any other trace of it, I expect you to remove as well. You can record the comms normally. But when I ask you to delete one, you do so without question."

Hartley cringed at the loss of information. And wet dream material. "Understood."

"And, Hart?" Cold waited for Hartley's eyes to meet his before he continued. He smiled cryptically, but not unkind. "I'm not sleeping with him. Not yet. You overheard the preview." He pushed away from the desk, stalking toward the door.

"Cold!"

"Yes?" Cold turned back just inside the doorway, eyebrow raised.

Hartley shouldn't push his luck, he knew he shouldn't, but he smirked up at the leader of the Rogues anyway. "Can I listen in next time? If it's going to be deleted anyway."

Cold didn't try to hide the amusement from his face. He titled his head as if considering. "No," he said slowly.

"Brief window afterward to listen before it's deleted?" Hartley tried.

"Tell ya what, kid. Don't expect any head's up. But catch a live show on your own time, I won't retaliate if you eavesdrop. But no one else finds out. Anyone does, we have a problem." The hardened gaze and rigid jawline returned.

"Yes, sir," Hartley said.

Once Cold left, he got to work setting up a tweak to the program immediately.

* * *

It was a week later when Hartley received an alert directly to his hearing aids. The program recorded all Flash comm chatter automatically, but now, if a Rogue comm hacked into the channel, signaling that Cold was likely talking to The Flash again, Hartley could access the feed wherever he was.

He'd been out picking up groceries for a late dinner and other resupplies for the safe house when the alert beeped, followed by a crackle of static, and then...

"—lift up your shirt, let me see," Barry Allen, The Flash, gave a breathless order.

Cold answered, "Whatever you want, Scarlet. Tonight, I'm all yours."

Hartley nearly tripped as he reached the safe house door and fumbled to get inside. Cold had a heist planned for tonight, solo. Maybe he'd had other plans all along. But why hack into the comms if they could see each other? Unless they were playing out another exhibitionist streak.

"Your ink's like a mural," Flash said. "Can't believe I never saw it before."

A hiss and stutter of breath responded. Flash was touching Cold; this was more than exhibitionism or voyeurism. If Cold had been honest last week that they weren't sleeping together—yet—was this the first time the intrepid hero had touched his villain?

Hartley had to know. He dropped the groceries on the counter and moved straight for the office. He could listen in with his hearing aids, but further details required the full program. He booted it up, and turned on the tracker to pinpoint their location. They had to have moved somewhere mildly hidden if Cold was showing off his tattoos. Hartley had only caught a glimpse of them on Cold's forearms.

"You call the shots tonight, kid," Cold gasped. "As promised. However you want me."

Oh this was going to be good. Hartley could see in moments that the pair was still outdoors, in an alleyway along—

Wait, was that Lake Street? It couldn't be. Cross-sectioned with Hamilton Avenue?

Hartley checked the feed again, wondering if the program was picking up his hearing aids instead, or maybe even pinging off the program itself. But no, everything was working correctly.

Flash and Cold were on the other side of the wall, in the alley behind the safe house!

Hartley turned his head to stare at the wall, the only thing between him and the pair he could overhear, as hums and noises like something wet, like Flash licking up Cold's chest, came over the comm, and Cold sucked in a sharp breath. Cold hadn't purposely hacked Flash's comms. It triggered from proximity, another feature Hartley had added, in case The Flash ever located one of their safe houses. Cold had no idea.

There weren't windows. Hartley couldn't see them. At least not from where he was. But if he went out the back door…

Cold had told him he could listen in if he happened upon their next encounter. Really, the Rogues leader should have expected that Hartley would have ways of making sure he didn't miss it. So it had been blatant permission, maybe even encouragement that Hartley do this. Would a sneak peek visual really be off the table when they were literally right outside?

"Tell me…what do you want, kid?"

"I want to fuck you against this wall," Flash growled.

 _Shit._

"Left hand pocket."

Distant rustling sounded. Hartley closed the program on the computer, ceasing the recording but kept listening through his hearing aids as he moved quietly for the back door.

"You carry lube and condoms in your parka?"

"Experience told me to be prepared. Course I expected to fuck _you_ the first time. Either way is fine by me. Your show here, Scarlet. Anything you want."

"We could go inside, find a softer surface."

Hartley froze with his hand on the doorknob. He'd have to bolt if they did that. Of course, if Flash zipped them inside, no amount of hurrying would get him clear of the safe house fast enough.

"I think you prefer it like this. Out in the open. Chance of getting caught. Dirty alley in our costumes."

The Flash murmured a low rumble of agreement that pulsed something hot straight to Hartley's groin. "Yeah...I like the sound of that. Eat the brick, Snart. You're gonna need the leverage."

Hartley had to see this. The door didn't open directly into the alley, but around the corner. He could slip out, peek around at them from a safe distance, and get a firsthand view while hearing intimately every huffed breath and needy noise they made. The risks were worth it for that payoff.

The building was a corner lot, so it had two alleys, each leading to a connecting street. The one Flash and Cold were in was the narrower more hidden of the two.

Hartley exited to stillness and quiet, save the distant sound of traffic, but as he inched toward the end of the alley and the corner that turned down the adjoining path, a muffled moan echoed both in his ears...and in front of him.

He peered around the edge of the wall just in time to see Flash drop a small bottle back into Cold's pocket, his gloves gone, fingers glistening as they drifted down behind Cold. They both faced away from Hartley toward the other wall. Cold had all of his gear on, though the goggles had been drawn down, but his pants and underwear were bunched around his ankles. Cold had very nice thighs, Hartley decided, licking his lips as he pressed one hand to the wall and brought the other to the clasp of his jeans.

Flash still had his cowl up, only missing his gloves as he probed intimately at Cold and very distinctly slid a finger inside. Hartley stood a good six yards from them, but that motion he saw clearly, as Cold's doubled voice hitched and moaned again, and he pressed back against Flash's hand.

"Who knew you'd be so eager for it, Snart?" Flash huffed against the back of Cold's neck, tugging the parka back just slightly to place a kiss there that made Cold shiver.

Hartley undid his jeans and drew the zipper down.

"Sounds like…s-someone was looking forward to paying me back," Cold said into the brick.

"You have no idea."

Hartley reached in and squeezed away some of the pressure building as he hardened. He could only half see Cold's bare ass with how the parka hung down, Flash's hand, his long fingers, disappearing beneath the curtain of navy. But Hartley knew when Flash added a second finger because Cold slammed a fist against the brick.

"Better than a hand job?" Flash asked.

"You enjoyed every minute of that, Barry."

"I did. And I enjoyed touching myself imagining it was you just as much. How you like feeling me finally?"

His hand pressed in more deeply, a twist of his wrist making Cold gasp. "You promised, Flash…"

Hartley tilted his head in curiosity.

"I did."

A deeper moan sounded loud enough over the comm that Hartley feared the pair of them would hear themselves echoed back to them from his hearing aids, as the impossible happened and Flash's hand…blurred. He was using his speed to vibrate, just his hand, his fingers, and—oh. Oh god. Hartley slid his hand into the slit of his boxers, took hold of himself and stroked. Flash was vibrating his fingers inside of Cold; it didn't get hotter than that.

"Wait til you feel the rest of me," Flash chuckled.

Since when did he sound so devious and self-assured? Since he had Cold eating brick, apparently.

His hand remained a blur, a subtle continued twist and in and out motion the perfect rhythm with which to time Hartley's own strokes. Eventually, Flash's free hand moved up to the zipper of his costume and slowly brought it down. A smooth, pale chest revealed itself inch by inch, and eventually a low tuft of dark hair, and then he was pulling himself out.

Hartley stroked himself harder.

Flash's hand disappeared back inside Cold's parka, returning with a condom he unwrapped and rolled up his length, while Cold panted against the wall, waiting for those fingers to be replaced.

When Hartley fantasized about his fearless leader and the Scarlet Speedster—and he had fantasized about them a lot this past week—this wasn't the way he imagined it. Seeing his boss face-first into an alley wall, ass revealed for all the world to see if anyone was as lucky as Hartley right now, eager and practically begging for it, was a surprising turn on.

Cold didn't give up control to anyone. But Flash…he could give it to Flash. And Barry Allen didn't seem the type to be this take charge in the bedroom, but like this, with his nemesis, he reveled in it. As good as they had seemed to fit together in the brief snippet Hartley had heard of their previous encounter, with Cold clearly in charge and dominant, they fit just as well the other way around.

Flash, cowl still on, but suit otherwise open down to his groin, eased himself into Cold, the parka partially hiding their connection. His bravado paused with a breathy, "Okay?" asking permission and making sure Cold adjusted at the same time.

Cold nodded, his forehead practically pressed into the brick. "Searingly good, kid."

Flash chuckled again. He still sheathed himself slowly, letting Cold stretch and relax and pound another fist into the wall. Then he moved, and the rock of his hips had Hartley rocking into his own palm more fervently. Even if given the opportunity to watch his favorite porn up close, nothing could compare with these visuals, these specimen.

As they moved, gradually picking up the pace, Flash slid the hand still sticky with lube around to Cold's front, gripping him tight. Hartley couldn't quite see it, hidden against the wall, but he saw the relief that filled Cold's face. They rocked, and Flash's hand moved faster—then he hissed.

"Shit."

"Problem?"

Flash slid out of Cold carefully, gripped his shoulders, and spun him around so that his back met the wall instead. A scrape painted the back of Flash's hand from the harsh texture of the wall.

All at once, with Cold turned toward Flash, Hartley could see the man's flushed face, his sweater hitched up, and cock prominent with his pants pulled down—weeping and red. Hartley bit back a moan as he slowed his strokes. The angle made it more likely that Cold would see him, but he couldn't move away, couldn't hide any further around the wall or risk losing the view.

"The wall's more unforgiving than I expected," Flash said.

"What do you want instead?" Cold asked, navy eyes devouring the color in Flash's cheeks, his bare chest, and down to his visible erection.

The corner of Flash's mouth curled up in a smirk. "Oh, I'm still fucking you against this wall." He pulled the cowl from his head finally, swooped forward to grab Cold by the hips, and lifted him—straight up the wall.

Cold's legs instinctively wrapped around Flash's waist, hands seeking his shoulders as his face, his usually impassive and always in control expression, betrayed his surprise. Flash held him with no effort at all, easily able to shift them, position Cold against the wall, and then lower him just so.

This time when they connected, Hartley saw the way Cold's eyes went heavy-lidded, almost closing, but not fully, his mouth dropping open, though no sound came out, only a shuddery breath. The flush to his face darkened as Flash slid in deep—so deep, Hartley could tell by the way Cold's brow furrowed and his mouth dropped open wider with each new inch.

Then they were moving again, a gentle thrust up, and up, Cold rocking against the wall, his parka perfectly cushioning the way he pressed against it, as his hands, still gloved, dug into the thick strands of Flash's brunette hair.

Hartley was so wet, his hand slid over his dick smooth and fast, picking up speed again, wanting to keep pace with them for as long as he could.

Cold's leather-clad fingers gripped and twisted in Flash's hair, held his head, arched his neck back, and groaned at what was undoubtedly the first time he'd ever been wall-fucked lifted. But then, when his head dropped forward and his eyes met those of his sweet, yet so very dirty-minded hero, something changed. Cold held Flash's face in his hands—and kissed him.

There shouldn't have been anything extraordinary about it. They were fucking in an alley, still mostly dressed, in the costumes they fought in, hard and dirty where anyone might see them. A kiss shouldn't mean anything. But when Cold kissed him, Flash stilled. His hips paused in their constant rhythm. Wrapped around each other, holding each other, even as they were so intimately connected, it was the connection of their mouths and tongues that resonated.

Had they never kissed before, Hartley wondered. It was such a silly thing to think and yet—had they? They hadn't actually been fucking until now, after all, only teasing, playing. Hartley didn't know the details about what they had done up to now, but kissing…kissing seemed to be the game changer.

Everything slowed. Not only because their motions stopped for a moment, but when Flash began to rock again, their holds on each other tightened. Their lips broke apart, but their heads remained close, breath gasping against each other's mouths, hot and unsteady. Something deeper was going on, Hartley could feel it, feel the shift, the change in the air, like static.

The way Cold looked at Flash when his eyes opened again, hooded, and dark, and so deeply filled with want, was more than lust, more than anything playful. Hartley had no idea something this profound was going on between hero and villain; they didn't seem to have realized it either, until this moment. It was something private, something Hartley felt a nauseous twist in his gut for witnessing, and as close as he'd been to coming, his hand slowed.

The tension broke all at once, like a winding clock. Their eyes snapped apart as Cold's neck arched again with a particularly firm thrust. Flash's rocking increased, and increased as they aimed to build toward a glorious end. The tender moment had passed and faded, and while it still charged the air around them, the heat was back as they gave into their passion.

Hartley couldn't stop now. He let his hand speed up with the speed of The Flash. Though nothing could compare with how it looked when the man blurred—his entire body—and Cold barely choked back a loud, devastated cry. That was a handy, sexy as hell power that Hartley wished he could experience, just once. If only the other speedsters out there weren't psychotic.

The rhythm continued to increase, faster than Hartley could keep up, but that didn't matter now, because he was close, the sight of Flash and Cold like this so insanely hot, he was ready, so ready, and then—then he was coming, just as Cold's eyes drifted lazily to the side and saw him.

Hartley was glad he'd finished, because if he hadn't, he might have lost his hard-on in seconds with the way Cold's eyes glazed over with a look of pure, bitter hatred. Hartley had never seen the man look that murderous. He was dead. He was so dead.

Flash noticed the diversion of his partner's attention, and turned to look, hazel eyes landing on Hartley in shock, but the same fury didn't materialize. He gaped, motion stilling once more, but only for a moment, before he turned back to Cold and said, "Better give him a good show, don't you think?"

The anger in Cold's eyes dissipated instantly. He must have thought that Flash knowing Hartley was there would ruin it, put an end to their excursion, and yeah, if that had been the case, Hartley would have gladly offered himself up for sacrifice. A mercy killing would have been completely justified if he was the reason this session ended. But with The Flash on board? Cold melted again, and they shared the briefest rekindling of whatever had passed between them when they kissed.

Their rocking renewed at blinding speeds, Cold moaning wantonly against the wall from the force of Flash's thrusts, as if neither knew Hartley was watching—even though they did, and he definitely was watching, every sordid moment of it.

He stroked himself through the aftershocks of his previous orgasm until he felt too sensitive to keep going and had to stop. Even so, he could feel himself hardening again as the show before him progressed. Maybe he'd survive this after all.

It was moments later that Flash came, a ripple running through him from his head to his toes that pulled a fresh keen from Cold's lips. But Cold shivered, shuddered, not yet there himself.

"I'll get you there," Flash said. He pulled away gently, only to lift Cold higher rather than lower him, until Cold was basically sitting on Flash's shoulders, and he—fuck.

Hartley pounded his own fist into the wall, no longer needing to be quiet, as Flash deep-throated Cold right in front of him, holding him to the wall up on his shoulders. Cold barely had the sense to grip the low overhang of the fire escape above him for leverage.

He moaned and swayed his hips forward, while his head and back fell against the wall. Whether he was just that close, or the sheer insanity of how sexy this was overloaded his brain, Hartley would have believed either, Cold came with a cry, still stuttering his hips forward as his cock slid between Flash's lips.

Flash pulled away with a pop Hartley heard over the comms and from down the alley. He stroked once more over his once again hardened erection, but tucked himself away. Later. He'd definitely take some alone time to play this scene over in his head again later, and get out his best, most invasive toys.

They were both panting heavily when Flash finally lowered Cold back to the ground. Cold's eyes darted to Hartley, but Flash raised a hand to his cheek and diverted his attention back to him. He kissed him, Cold's eyes fluttering closed with a relieved sigh and his entire body sagging against The Flash. Hartley had never seen the man so relaxed, so not on his guard, but given over to someone else completely.

The whole thing was oddly sweet given how hot the rest had been.

"He was listening in on the hacked comms, wasn't he?" Flash whispered when they pulled apart.

"Didn't know it was on, in my defense," Cold said. "Must have triggered being near the safe house. Claims he already knew your face."

"Probably true."

"You mind?"

"An audience? Not as much as I thought I would. Kinda hot."

Hartley couldn't have agreed more.

Flash stepped back from Cold, and as he zipped up his Flash suit and replaced his gloves, and Cold started to pull up his pants, the dark eyes of the Rogues leader fell to Hartley again.

"You tell anyone, Hart…"

"Wouldn't dream of it, boss," Hartley said, his voice sounding hoarse and choked after remaining silent for so long. He bit his lip as he eyed them both, the lean lines of The Flash, the subtle strength of Captain Cold. Oh, what it would be like to meet in the middle… "If you ever want extra participants—"

"Don't push it, Piper," Flash said.

He turned back to Cold, stepped in close, and whispered something, something too faint for the comms to pick up clearly, though Hartley definitely heard the words, "next time," in there somewhere. Then Flash turned back to glance at him, gave a small smirk before pulling on his cowl, and zoomed away in a streak of crackling yellow lightning.

Cold leaned back against the wall with a warmth about him in the afterglow. He still shot out a piercing stare when Hartley finally moved out from behind the safety of the wall and approached him.

"Does my insane jealousy over how hot that was in any way exempt me from whatever revenge you're plotting?" Hartley asked.

"What are you doing here, Hart? Thought you were gone for the night."

"Changed my mind. Figured I'd sleep here again. Got groceries."

Cold's eyes brightened at the mention. "Dinner?"

"Yeah. You eat?"

"Not yet. You cooking?"

Hartley grinned. For now, he'd live another day. "We even if I do?"

Cold shrugged, pushed away from the wall, and gestured with an elegant twirl of his finger for Hartley to turn around and head back inside. "It's a start."

* * *

TBC...


	4. I need you to come in the supply closet

Months have passed since their encounter in the alley. Things have changed. Len is certain whatever was between him and Barry was ruined by circumstance and his own choices, and he can live with that, but then...the kid surprises him, and he realizes he's in deeper than he thought.

* * *

Len passed his hand along the wall of the hallway as he headed for the main labs—invited for the first time since Barry first asked for his help moving meta humans out of their prison. Things were different now, with Hunter and his…crew. Most of the time, Len was somewhere lost in time, rather than home in his fair city, pushing The Flash's buttons. Which was a real shame. Not that they'd been up to the antics of a few months ago for…well, a few months.

It had started as an impromptu hand job in the CCPD precinct where Barry worked. Len had indeed been joking when he made the offer, but he was bored, and Barry looked so adorably startled by the notion, didn't actually tell him to stop, and then…Len had his hand on the kid.

He didn't expect an encore. Hoped for one. But didn't expect it. Sure, he pushed a little harder when he turned on Hartley's program some nights later, heard Barry over the comms, and tracked him to just above where Len stood. He'd been scouting his next heist, nothing time sensitive, so a detour to the roof was no trouble. Which was why he'd been disappointed to spot Barry one roof over. He hadn't looked at the tracker carefully enough. But it all worked out.

Len knew the second Barry spotted him that he had the kid in his grasp, could take bigger risks, risk it all, and ask for what he really wanted. Barry took direction remarkably well. Len hadn't intended to get off himself, there on that rooftop. Figured he'd watch the kid then excuse himself to attend to any personal discomfort later.

But Barry looked too good, naked save the mask, sprawled out on the rooftop, in plain view of anyone watching, on top of his own suit. Touching himself. Doing as Len commanded. Looking so eager, Len had to take himself in hand if only to keep from losing his mind.

After that, Len had looked forward to their next encounter. So when, a week later, he went back to complete the heist he'd planned, of course he went alone. Of course The Flash showed up, without backup. Of course Len aimed a little too wide with his cold gun, and had a plan for Lisa and Mick to come in later and retrieve the loot he'd left behind. Because Len knew Barry would whisk him away, knew the tension between them after the tease on the rooftops would boil over when the chance to actually be on each other presented itself.

Len whispered an address when Barry pinned him, and they were there. Barry all his. The kid in charge this time. Forceful. Saying, actually saying he wanted to fuck Len, and hell yes, that was fine by him, he'd come prepared.

It was rough, and dirty, and everything Len wanted it to be…until they were facing each other. Until Barry hoisted him up and held him as they fucked in that alley, and Len made the fool mistake of taking the kid's face in his hands and kissing him.

The game changed in that moment, and it was Len's own doing. It wasn't just sex anymore. They knew each other, better than most, understood and accepted each other, as they danced their hero/villain dance, and gave into the desires it stirred in them. The raw heat in Len's gut got mixed up with something softer, and he knew he needed to put a stop to it then and there…but couldn't.

He'd been furious when he spotted Hartley, infringing on their moment, their time together, certain Barry wouldn't be able to handle a third party getting in on the action. Once again, Barry surprised him. Took it in stride. Fucked Len harder. Gave a good show. Gave an amazing show, even lifting Len higher after he'd come himself, to take Len into his mouth, up on his damn shoulders—and fuck, Len was done within a couple good jerks of his hips when Barry did that.

It took all night to come down from the high the kid left him in. Wasn't too easy walking back into the safe house either, with how sore he was, cringing and moving gingerly while just daring Hartley to comment. The young genius knew better by then.

But Len didn't get to relax after that. Lisa and Mick called for backup. Something had seemed fishy when they returned for the loot. Someone around—a van. So Len showed up to help, and suddenly he was grabbed and Lisa knocked out, with Mick already taken off with his portion of the loot.

Then Len saw why—Lewis.

He didn't check on the Flash comms after that. Didn't keep an eye on the Scarlet Speedster like he wanted to. Couldn't risk his father knowing anything about how deeply invested in the kid he'd become—such a glaring weakness.

"Boils my blood. Always in my way. Hate the guy, what do you expect? But he'll get his."

The important thing was that Lewis bought it.

Barry wasn't as warmed to Len's changed demeanor when they saw each other again. Len was in deep all right, but Lisa came first. He almost told Barry the truth, almost explained why he'd been MIA, why he was working with his father, why things hadn't been the same. But then Barry would be involved, he'd be at risk, and Len couldn't add any other casualties when he hadn't yet figured out how to save Lisa. So he gave the cold shoulder, turned Barry away, tried to make it clear that what they'd been through so far meant nothing. Barry being Barry, though, it wasn't enough.

Len had never felt his stomach bottom out so quickly as he did when he saw Barry shot and sprawled across the floor. He was going to kill his father; this time, he was going to kill him. As soon as Lisa was safe. As soon as he had his chance.

Seeing that Barry was okay minutes later made Len falter, but his sister…he had to think of Lisa, had to protect her. Once she was safe, he had his chance. Barry wouldn't like it, he wouldn't understand, but Len had to end it, so he did.

He knew things were over between him and Barry after that, whatever they'd been, whatever that stint of hot, messy satisfaction they'd taken from each other had meant. Barry still believed in him, still saw good in him, but they could never be more now.

Breaking into Barry's house solidified that. Even though Len felt the same heat he'd known through all three encounters, and had to wonder what might have happened if Miss West hadn't been there that night. The way Barry moved in close to his body, eyed his lips, alive with electricity. Len was half hard by the time Barry released him, thankful for the cover of his parka.

He said his piece, but he couldn't risk more, not without any payoff, not this time. He was already in too deep. So deep, that he couldn't help hacking into the comms that night and overhearing Mardon and Jesse with Barry.

Len was already geared up, already close, ready to step in. He hadn't planned on it, just…hadn't been able to stop himself, and as soon as he heard what those psychos were really planning, he knew he couldn't stay out of it.

He hacked the Flash comms so that, for a moment, only he and Barry were connected. "Tell me what to do, Scarlet."

"No," Barry huffed, after Marden had zapped him with a string of lightning. "I don't matter. The kids…the families."

"Your team's on it. They'll fix it. Just let me—"

"No! They'll detonate the bombs! Jesse…he'll do it, you can't help me."

"I'm not gonna just sit here…"

"Please, Snart."

How could Len say no? He waited…waited…readied his shot, Barry's bleeding heart theatrics be damned…but never had to intervene. Team Flash to the rescue, as always.

Len left, never really seeing the ending, though he heard Barry talk down some cop from icing Mardon, which maybe he should have just allowed.

It wasn't long after, when Len was nearly back at the safe house, ready to turn off the comms, when he heard Barry say, "Thanks for trying, Snart."

Len cut the feed. He'd already risked too much.

Mere weeks passed before Barry got in contact with him, and at first Len wondered if the kid finally wanted to have that 'talk' they'd never bothered with, about boundaries, about what a mistake they'd made. Or maybe he wanted to return to fucking on the side, Len could hope. But in the end, it was neither; another plea for Len's soul, more or less, and an offer to help save the world. Len was such a fool for saying yes.

He hesitated as he neared the end of the hallway into the labs. Voices. Barry's, but also Cisco, Caitlin, the usual suspects, and a few others. It had been weeks of gallivanting around with Hunter's team. Weeks since Len last saw Barry, since he'd been home. But he was needed for something, and apparently he was someone they called in favors from now without offering payment. Len had agreed to show up, since Team Legends—they really needed a better name—were laid over in Central for a few days.

He was in deep all right, no going back now, because as soon as he entered the room and saw Barry, saw the kid spin about and see him, his whole boyish face lighting up, he knew he was done for.

"Snart! You came."

"Of course, Scarlet. I always come when I say I'm going to."

Barry blushed. Cisco snorted. The others in the room became a haze. Len listened to what they needed from him, got caught up on the situation, storing pertinent info away, but kept one eye on Barry. Something was different about the kid, at least from the last time Len had seen him, something more akin to their amorous encounters.

He kept biting his bottom lip. Eyeing Len from head to toe. Catching his gaze and holding it with a grin. Playing with fire, ready for round—4, was it? Or maybe 2, since they'd only barely started before everything came to a head. Len ached for the kid, ached for that expression, for the want he saw there to be real.

Then the group parted, some time to kill before the mission, and when Barry sauntered over to him with a telling eyebrow raise, "I need you to come in the supply closet and look at something," Len hardened instantly. No parka this time, but his trench coat hid the signs well enough.

No one was near them to have actually overheard, but the kid was playing it safe, though not so safe that he wasn't asking for sex with most of the people he knew still in the building. Len nodded, gestured for Barry to lead the way, and was impressed the closet in question wasn't farther from the main labs, just down a narrow hall where anywhere might wander.

Barry pinned him back against the door the moment they were inside, pupils already dilated, lips reddened from how much he'd been biting them, staring at Len's lips in turn. "I need you. Right. Now."

He plastered his body against Len's, all tongue and teeth, grinding his own very apparent erection into Len's thigh. Kid had clearly gone without since their last encounter. Same for Len. Though he'd lost count of the times he'd taken a hand to himself, imagining a certain someone in red.

He'd only felt Barry against him the one time, firm muscle with lightning thrumming beneath the surface of his skin. It made the hair on Len's arms stand on end. He wondered if Barry's lovers always felt that way, or if Len was the only person who'd tasted The Flash enough to know.

Possessiveness coiled in his gut as he gripped Barry's waist and held him close. The kid's tongue in his mouth, hands up his shirt, hips rocking…

"Someone's hard up…" Len gasped from their kiss, pressing his forehead to Barry's as they panted. "What changed? Thought you were done with me."

"I never said that."

"Never said otherwise. Think a few weeks with heroes domesticated me?"

"Somehow I doubt that," Barry chuckled, lapping for Len's tongue again, another heated, wet kiss, and then…a breath, a pause, as Barry looked him in the eyes. "I missed you."

Shit.

Now was the moment Len needed to shut this down, twist things back to the way they should be, either with no sex, or only sex, but not whatever this was becoming. Only he didn't want to. And Len had always strived to live his life so he could have what he wanted without anyone telling him otherwise.

He grabbed Barry's face. Kissed him again—softer. They needed to get back to rough, that was true, but the softness…Len liked the contrast, liked that he could have both in Barry.

"What do you want, kid?"

"Nah uh. Your turn this time," Barry grinned.

Len didn't have it in him to correct Barry—his question had been more loaded than logistics. But he could play along. He moved his hands back to Barry's waist and rocked his hips forward, eliciting a short gasp from the kid. "Mmm…that it is. And you know what I want. We have some promises to keep. If you have what we need?"

Barry licked his reddened lips. Nodded. He pulled back just slightly to let Len know he wanted to get away, and as reluctant as Len was to lose Barry's body heat, he allowed it.

The small supply closet was cluttered, mostly with things Len couldn't even name, but organized despite the odd assortment of items. Barry reached behind a larger box, producing a small bottle and a condom.

Len chuckled. "You planned this in advance."

"Always be prepared."

"You a boy scout, Barry?"

Barry made a point of reaching between his legs to palm himself through his slacks. "Not today."

Len surged forward. All the want and loneliness and solitary nights catching up to him having this sweet, sexy as hell kid in front of him. He hadn't realized how wound tight he'd become until he felt it all melt from his shoulders. He ripped the bottle and condom from Barry's hand to place on a closer, lower shelf, and backed Barry further into the closet, nipping at his lips and raking his hands up underneath the kid's sweater and undershirt.

Just as he was about to rip the offending items over Barry's head, he felt resistance as they stopped moving, as if Barry had hit the wall, but they weren't close enough for that. Len removed his tongue from cloying with the kid's to glance over his shoulder.

"That Wells' wheelchair?"

"Huh? Y-Yeah. I used it after Zoom."

"I see."

"In the way?"

Len slid his hands around the waistband of Barry's slacks, kissing the kid's neck as he slid his palms down the back of them and gripped Barry's bare ass firmly. "Not at all."

Barry whimpered. Rocked forward. Teetered a little with the wheelchair behind his knees. They ground against each other for a few mindless minutes, still fully clothed, Len's mouth hot on Barry's neck, Barry's tongue darting out at Len's ear, like eager teenagers. Len had never felt so young as he did with Barry Allen.

When Len finally removed his hands from Barry's slacks, he slid them right up into the kid's shirt, and lifted it from his body. The kid's smooth chest felt pulsing hot to the touch. Touch. He was touching Barry more than he'd ever been allowed to before. They'd barely touched before the alley, barely undressed when they were in the alley. This time Len wanted all of Barry, to get his hands on every inch he could reach.

Barry writhed against him, always moving, like a livewire. Len undid the kid's slacks, but before he could remove them, Barry tugged Len's trench from his shoulders, started undoing his button down. Barry groaned when he got it open and ran his hands over Len's ink, feeling the soft dusting of hair over his pecks that was mostly hidden amidst the dark colors.

Len let Barry spread his long fingers, tracing the intricate designs of a Jack of Spades, the Fibonacci Sequence swirling around his left peck, a handful of blue and silvery snowflakes. All the while, Len pressed his own palm against Barry's stomach, fingers pointing downward, and slowly slid it into the open fly of Barry's slacks, passed the elastic of his underwear, right to the prize below.

Barry whined and bit his lip, scarping his nails down Len's chest. He leaned forward like he needed to touch, needed Len's tongue, so Len provided. As he touched Barry, felt the wetness building, the hardness of his him pulsing, their tongues coiled again, and a vibrating pulse ricocheted through Barry starting at his core out through his lips and fingertips. It lasted only a moment, but Len moaned in the wake of it. Barry was something else.

He tore at Len's belt, risking actually wrecking the dress pants as he sped through removing them, never stopping his eager thrusts into Len's palm. He pulled Len's shorts down with the pants, letting them drop to the floor, the button down dropping similarly as Barry pushed it from Len's shoulder, then paused to admire the tattoos on his arms. He didn't pause long before he shimmied out of his own slacks and underwear, while trying to keep Len's hand on him as much as possible.

They pressed together tighter then, only skin between them, all skin, like they'd never been before. Len's arms wrapped up around Barry's back, his own slick cock pressing against Barry's to replace the loss of his hand, as they rocked. Rocked. Barry's hands smoothing up Len's chest again, around his shoulders, up into his shorn hair where he scratched his nails and held Len's head so he could kiss him.

Len could already feel himself growing close. He needed to slow them down, which wasn't an easy feat when dealing with The Flash. Little by little, he slowed the motion of his hips, pulled from the kiss, and said, "Turn to face the chair."

Barry blinked hazily, grinning as he nodded. They disentangled, and when Barry turned around and bent over to first lock the chair in place, then rest his palms on the arms, bent and presenting himself to Len, Len couldn't help running his hands down over Barry's ass. He smacked it lightly just because he could, and reveled in how Barry giggled, then gasped when Len smacked him again.

Len snatched up the bottle, pouring silky liquid over his fingers. "How much time we got?"

"Uhh…half an hour?"

"Til someone comes looking?"

"Hopefully."

"You lock the door?"

"It doesn't lock."

A fresh thrill shot up from Len's belly. He glanced behind them—worth the risk. "Why do I get the feeling you like the idea of being caught?" Len whispered, slipping his fingers down the curve of Barry's ass, wetting the puckered entrance, and twirling around the edges teasingly.

Barry bucked back against him. "Better hope it's not Joe."

Len laughed. Barry better prove he's faster than a speeding bullet if that ended up being the case. "Realized I never asked. You done this before?" He slowly slid one finger in to the knuckle, then deeper when he felt the way Barry opened for him without resistance.

"Ugnn…not with another person, but I…I'm no stranger to this part."

"I remember," Len grinned, bending down to plant a kiss between Barry's shoulder blades as he recalled watching the speedster finger himself on that rooftop with nothing but spit and vibrations.

"Haha…yeah," Barry gasped, and rocked back against Len again, bringing his finger in all the way with a grunt. "And maybe I've…been having fun with my new blue dildo that reminds me of you."

Len rumbled something between a laugh and a growl. He started to add the second finger, gradually stretching, scissoring inside, impressed with how Barry's body adapted so easily, though if he'd been having regular solo fun with sizeable toys, that was no surprise. "You don't say? Bet you'll like the real thing better."

Barry moaned, rocking his hips more consistently.

"How long you been thinking about this, Barry?"

"Since…the precinct. Never stopped thinking about it. 'Bout you."

"Mmm…the way you lifted me on your shoulders in that alley made those lonely nights in Iron Heights warmer, kid. Gonna treat you so good to pay you back for that, just you wait."

Barry moaned loudly as Len twisted his fingers more deeply. "Don't wanna wait…"

"Think you're ready for me?"

"Please…"

Len didn't need further convincing. Barry felt open and so relaxed, so ready for him. He slid his fingers free and reached for the condom, then thought better of trying to open it with slick fingers. Plus he had plans for that chair. "You put the condom on me. We're gonna switch this around a bit."

Barry staggered as he pushed up, cheeks rosy, eyes nearly black as he turned and reached for the condom. His hands shook as he tore into it, but he managed.

Len took Barry by the hips and pivoted them, turning until the wheelchair was behind his legs instead. He let Barry roll the condom up his length, feeling so hard, he might burst at the brush of Barry's fingers, especially with the state the kid was in.

Then Len sat, right down into the wheelchair, and patted his thighs with a suggestive smirk.

Barry bit his lip again—he had no idea how sinful he looked doing that. He turned, the flush covering his entire, perfect, unmarred body, and made to sit in Len's lap.

"You got all the control here, kid. Easy…" Len said, as Barry sat, slowly taking him in at the tip, body stretching to accommodate the wider girth. Barry gasped a little and stilled. "Easy," Len said again, "slow as you need."

Barry nodded atop him, pulling up slightly, pausing as he willed himself to relax, then started again, slower this time, easing onto Len at such an agonizing speed, Len grit his teeth. The heat of Barry, the tightness despite the natural give of having stretched himself regularly with his hands and toys. It was different with a partner though. Different when nerves came into play.

But Barry soon relaxed as he'd been before, taking Len deeper, deeper, until he groaned as he sat fully in Len's lap. Len wrapped his hands around Barry's chest, holding him against him, skin to skin. This was better than the alley, hot as that was. Better than the rooftop, or the police station. This was them, alone, even with the threat of being caught, able to touch and hold each other with every inch of heated skin in tight contact.

Len bucked his hips up subtly, and drifted his hands down between Barry's legs. Barry dropped his head back with a sigh, floofed hair tickling Len's nose. "Move, Barry," he whispered up toward the kid's ear. "Show me how much you want it."

Barry obliged, slowly at first, a gentle rocking motion, the chair stationary with the lock in place. He was so hot, encapsulating all of Len in tight heat. Len felt the inclination to go hard and fast instead of so maddeningly unhurried, but Barry needed it, and Len didn't want this over quickly. He fought the urge to rut upwards, and let Barry control the speed, trembling in his arms, in his lap, as they drew the moment out.

Len palmed Barry's balls with his left hand, while the right gathered the wetness dripping from his tip and smoothed it up his length, beginning a leisure rhythm with his hand. Barry picked up the pace with his rocking hips, little by little, and with the combination of Len inside of him and his hands on him, his voice was a constant stream of filthy moans and profanity.

"Fuck, kid…the noises you make," Len huffed, rocking his own hips in time with Barry's, increasing the urgency only when Barry rocked harder above him first. "Should have had you like this from day one."

"Yeah…" Barry agreed with a wanton loll of his head. "Any time you want, Snart…Cold," he corrected, then with a particularly deep thrust up and rock back to take Len in as deep as he could, he moaned, "Len!"

"That's better, kid. You call me 'Len' when I'm inside you."

"F-Fuck…only if you drop the 'kid'," Barry teased, and Len could hear the grin in his voice.

"Anything you want, Barry," Len said, sliding his hands from touching Barry to grip his hips instead, bucking up faster, harder, as Barry rode him just as fiercely and keened out the longest, most sinful moan Len had ever pulled from someone.

He felt a bone-deep vibration start from Barry's hips, traveling up through his body and out his limbs, making a moan rip free from Len's lips next. Len stuttered up into the solely unique experience of Barry Allen, and came, digging divots into Barry's hips with his fingers.

He slowed his thrusts as his orgasm lingered and then waned, causing Barry to whine atop him. Len moved his hands back between Barry's legs and felt that the kid was hard and weeping, and hadn't yet followed him over the edge.

"Turn around."

"Wh-what…?"

"Turn around, Barry. I'll take care of you."

The blur of Barry's vibrations had started to dwindle. His legs shook as he stood, gasping at the disconnection when he pulled away from Len, and turned to face him. Len would have given anything in that moment to ensure this version of Barry was something he saw every day—the damp tousled hair, the flush to his cheeks, reddened, damp, and parted lips, eyes hazy and dark with lust. Len had caused all of that, and he wanted to do good on the promise to do more.

He tugged Barry forward by his hips, bent toward his slick and throbbing cock, and sucked it in between his lips. Barry cried out, though he managed to choke it back from being loud enough to carry outside the closet. His eyes fell closed and he reached forward with both hands to hold Len's head. Never quite insistent or forceful, just holding Len, as if he needed to touch him and stay connected through every part of this.

It made Len twitch and pulse between his own legs again, having Barry undone before him, unraveled in his grasp, all his. He sucked Barry down, fingers squeezing his ass as he held him in place, tongue never ceasing its languid movements as he sucked, and took Barry deeper, until a renewed shudder ran through the kid, his hands on Len's head shaking…

"I…I'm—"

And Len held him there, to swallow back everything Barry spilled.

Barry's panting breath filled the room when Len pulled away, licking his lips. His hands holding Len's head returned to gentle strokes of his long fingers over the buzz of Len's hair. Tender. Intimate. Len looked up, and Barry looked down at him, their eyes meeting like fire and ice in a haze of steam. Len couldn't have said who leaned in for the kiss first, but it was definitely Barry's tongue that reached for his, as the speedster climbed into his lap and hugged him closer.

Barry wasn't light, but Len barely felt the weight with how grounding it was to hold him, to wrap his arms around Barry and just hold him there. The kiss was slow, too slow, too deep a connection to ever fool themselves into thinking this wasn't more than sex. Len couldn't even scold himself over it, because he didn't want to give this up. Ever again.

A faint click was heard as the door opened.

"Oh! Wow…I didn't—"

And Len felt a rush of wind and motion, barely counting the seconds, until suddenly he heard Barry cry out, followed by a jumble of clanking shelves as several things tumbled to the floor. He blinked to realize that he no longer sat in the wheel chair, but stood in front of it, facing Jay Garrick at the open door, wearing only his lower half of clothing, while the rest still remained crumbled on the floor.

Barry, in his haste to dress them, had tripped over his slacks and was currently righting himself from having knocked into one of the shelves, pants half up his legs, with his sweater inside out.

Jay stood there gaping a moment, an amused smirk teasing his lips as if he knew exactly what Barry was going through as only another speedster could. Biting off a chuckle, he said, "Next time I'll knock. Seems I won the bet with Caitlin though. Need a few moments?"

Since Jay wasn't freaking out, Len certainly saw no reason to. He bent to retrieve his button down and put it on the old fashioned way—with his own normal speed two hands. "If you'd be so kind. We'll be out in a minute."

Barry's face was three shades of red, though he managed to pull his pants up the rest of the way as he said, "Did you, uhh…need something from the closet, Jay?"

"It can wait," Jay nodded.

He made to slip back out of the closet and close the door behind him, when he paused, looking back and forth between Barry and Len as if something had dawned on him. He snapped his fingers, ending in his pointer finger aimed at Barry.

"That's why you looked familiar when we first met—Citizen Cold's boyfriend! Funny how a pair of glasses can change your perception of someone." Then he finished his escape, leaving them once again in solitude.

Citizen Cold? Len decided not to ask. Time travel was confusing enough without adding Earth-2 nonsense.

Len finished buttoning up his shirt, only to look down and realize—huh, he had no idea what had happened to the condom, but he certainly didn't have it on, or trapped in his underwear or dress pants anywhere, thank god. He decided to trust Barry on that one, despite not being able to speed through salvaging their dignity without a brilliantly clumsy display.

Len supposed he was lucky The Flash didn't betray himself as occasionally klutzy Barry Allen more often. Not that he minded how adorable the kid looked when flustered.

"Did he say bet? Caitlin is in so much trouble," Barry grumbled as he righted his sweater and ran a hand through his hair.

Len grinned to himself as he snatched up his trench coat, slipping it on as Barry came over from around the wheelchair, still blushing and scratching the back of his neck.

"So, umm…do you think we can—"

Len shot his arm out to grip Barry around the waist and tug him close, claiming his lips in a searing kiss before the kid could finish his sentence. There was nothing quite as satisfying as catching The Flash of guard, except maybe what they'd just been up to. "Yes," Len said.

"I didn't finish," Barry sighed between them.

"Seemed you finished to me." Len licked his lips, eyed Barry's, then decided to steal just one more kiss, before saying, "And it's yes to whatever you were about to ask. Now let's get out of here before anyone else stumbled upon us. We have a city to save, don't we?"

Barry laughed, more like giggled, which should not have been as sexy as it was. "Yeah. We do."

Len gestured toward the door. Following behind Barry, watching the kid closely as he sauntered with a renewed confidence and skip in his step, was almost as enjoyable as noticing that, while Barry had managed to put his sweater on right side out this time, he'd still put it on backwards.

* * *

TBC...

* * *

The plan is for three more chapters after this. I have two scenarios planned fairly well, with more people finding out about them, and then I just need to figure out how I'm ending this thing, though I promise it will be equal parts hot and sweet.


	5. What's the weirdest place you've had sex

Cisco rushes into S.T.A.R. Labs to discover that Barry and Cold have gotten stuck in the elevator. Just as he's about to inform them that he'll have them out in a minute, he overhears a conversation he never wanted to eavesdrop on. Then witnesses something he will never, ever be able to wipe from his memory.

* * *

Cisco bounded up the stairs from the basement entrance into S.T.A.R. Labs two steps at a time, despite balancing a tray of coffees for himself and Barry—and okay, fine, for Cold too. The pair was coming to the labs to meet him that morning to work out some logistics for a joint mission with the Legends crew, but Cisco was loathe to admit he'd spent a dime on the leader of the Rogues. He also had a bag of donuts that would most likely all but one or two end up in Barry's stomach once the speedster saw them.

Cisco was a good friend. A flipping fantastic friend for putting up with Barry's constant, "There's good in you, Snart," routine that Cisco would never stop being at least mildly skeptical of. It wasn't even because of what the man had once done to Caitlin, or to Dante, or to innocent people before making his pact with The Flash. Honestly, it was the instant hatred Cisco had for bullies, which he equated with anyone who'd made him cry over the years, and one of those people was Leonard Snart.

Cisco didn't feel like less of a man for having teared up in front of Cold when the man threatened him and his brother for Barry's identity, but it still soured his stomach every time he looked at him. Even if Cold did appreciate the cold gun like no one else had ever appreciated one of Cisco's inventions. And had good taste in music. And movies. And just as much Star Wars and Star Trek knowledge as Cisco. And occasionally brought things back from his trips through time simply because he knew Cisco would find use for them.

Damn it, Cisco might as well admit the man was one of his closer if not weirder acquaintances. Not his friend though. Not yet. Even if he had given Cisco permission to date his sister with barely even a raised eyebrow. Well, it had been raised, but not homicidally so.

And well, okay, maybe Cisco had gotten a kick out of getting a Flash coffee for Barry, and a Captain Cold iced coffee for Snart. The man had adopted the codename Cisco dubbed him whole-heartedly. He wasn't always all bad.

Only Cisco was still irritated that morning as he burst into the main labs, winded from using the stairs. He set the coffee and donuts down so he could check exactly why the elevator wasn't working when he arrived. Barry and Cold could be there any minute.

Cisco allowed himself to take a few deep breaths to still his pulse, then checked the elevator. Stopped. Between floors too. It must have been in use. To confirm, Cisco pulled up the camera feed, and yep, low and behold, Barry and Cold had beat him to the labs, and were currently trapped in the elevator together. Hopefully, they hadn't been in there too long, though Cisco was about half an hour early, so they were lucky he'd shown up when he did.

There wasn't any sound unless he keyed in the comms, so at first all he could get was the angled down footage of the pair of them, each leaning against an opposing wall of the elevator, talking. Not heated or angry as they might have been once before. Not uncomfortable or concerned at all about being trapped with each other until Cisco arrived—Captain Cold and The Flash, nemeses extraordinaire.

It was simultaneously super annoying and a huge relief. Because the real reason Cisco often doubted he could like Cold was because if the man didn't have good in him, if he wasn't the good man he so obviously could be and sometimes even was, him stealing Cisco's gun, forcing him to make more, and discovering Barry's identity all because Cisco was an idiot and coward, could have been so much worse. Cold could have been Barry's worst enemy. Instead he'd become something else.

Cisco fiddled with the comms so he could inform them that he was early, with coffee and donuts, you're both very welcome, and would have the elevator fixed momentarily. Only as he took a breath to talk to them, Barry's voice carried into the labs from the speakers.

"What's the weirdest place you've ever had sex?"

Cisco was seriously glad he hadn't taken a mouthful of coffee, because he would have sprayed it all over the screen. Barry and Cold were far more comfortable together than Cisco had thought if they could so candidly have conversations like THAT.

Cold smirked in his usual sly way, arms crossed, head tilted to the side as he considered his answer. "That alley behind the safe house. With you."

What!? Cisco nearly choked on his lack of coffee.

Cold had to be joking. This had to be some sort of inside joke between them, some unknown pun. Yeah, that had to be it.

Even so…Cisco turned off the microphone so they couldn't hear him but he could still hear them.

Barry looked just as smug, arms also crossed, not shocked or bothered by what Cold had said. "Oh, I think we can do better than that. We should make a list of places to have sex. Keep things interesting."

Please, please be some sort of inside joke.

Cold glanced around the elevator. Shrugged. Spread his arms to encompass the cramped but not altogether claustrophobic space. "Looks like we're stuck here. How about we fool around? Wouldn't be the first time we fucked inside S.T.A.R. Labs."

Okay, now Cisco needed his coffee. He reached for it mechanically and took a gulp quickly, in case the next thing out of Barry's mouth was something equally impossible.

Thankfully, Barry's words were sensible. "Cisco could come in at any moment and see us."

Yeah, like right the fuck now!

"So what?" Cold pushed from the wall, took the one, two, three steps to be in Barry's space. "Hartley got a free show."

On, no, no, no. They had to know he was there. They were messing with him. Waiting for him to scream at them over the microphone to stop fucking around—and dear god, please don't start fucking around!

Cold placed his hands flat, one at a time, against the wall behind Barry, boxing him in between his arms. Barry didn't pull back, didn't flinch or push Cold away. He shifted in place like his jeans were suddenly tighter, and licked is lips as he glanced down Cold's body.

"Who knows how long we'll be stuck in this thing, Scarlet. Might as well occupy ourselves."

Barry shifted again. Glanced down Cold's body again. "You carry condoms and lube in your jacket like you do your parka?"

"Sadly, no, but I'm sure we can be creative in…other ways."

Cisco was dreaming. He'd tripped on the stairs. Gotten into a car accident on the way to the labs. Or they were seriously just messing with him and in a second they'd turn toward the camera and wave, let him in on the joke, and go back to be nemeses who were sometimes partners—but not those kinds of partners!

A static pause hung in the air, as Cisco took a slow sip of his coffee.

Barry's arms dropped to his sides, his eyes heavy-lidded, getting ready to close, as Cold leaned in, leaned forward, and then…

Cisco clutched his coffee in both hands as he watched his friend and Captain Cold press their lips together in an unmistakable kiss.

Shit. They wouldn't go this far just to play a prank on him. Would they?

The camera feed wasn't a close up, but Cisco could still make out their full forms. The way Cold's tongue flitted out at Barry's lips, and Barry eagerly returned the gesture with laps of his own tongue. Cold took another step forward, pressing himself against Barry, their bodies flush and soon…moving against each other.

Cold dropped his hands to Barry's shoulders. Barry lifted his hands to Cold's waist inside his leather jacket. The kiss began to heat up. Longer stroked of their tongues. Mouths more open and lewdly licking at each other. Breaths coming in pants. Bodies starting to writhe.

Cisco needed to turn this off. But then what would he do? Sit and wait it out? Peek in on them every so often to see if they were…done? How could he just sit and wait knowing what they were up to?! At what point was it okay for him to crackle over the comms, stop groping each other, you animals, I can see all of this!

He should tell them to stop now. But then they'd know he was watching! Shit. Or no, they'd just think he came in moments ago and caught them. He could play it off like that, and—

Oh fuck, Barry was sliding his hand into Cold's jeans. This was not a prank. This was happening. Would Cisco be a worse friend if he cock-blocked Barry right now, or if he kept watching? He should definitely, definitely stop watching…

A flash of lightning filled the elevator and suddenly the pair was against the opposite wall, Barry pinning Cold instead, his hand, palm inward, moving slowly up and down within the confines of Cold's black jeans in contrast to Barry's blue. Cold gasped out of their heated liplock, arching his neck for Barry to suck his way down it. Cold let his own hands fall away and enjoyed the attention of Barry's hand on him, hot mouth on his skin.

Cisco heard a whimper—and realized it was him! He took another sip of coffee. It was like a train wreck, okay? He just couldn't get himself to look away or reach over and turn the cameras off.

Cisco had never pictured Barry being confident like this when it came to sex—not that he'd pictured Barry! Just…Barry seemed more the shy and stuttering type, something Cisco thought they had in common. But then they could also both be smooth in the right circumstances. Really, Cisco only fumbled when he screwed up. If he was confident at the start, he totally had game. At least Lisa and Kendra thought he had game, and they were both supremely hot. So maybe Barry was the same.

Cold made him feel confident. Obviously, Cold enjoyed what Barry was doing to him, so Barry had a right to feel confident. Barry's hand kept a steady rhythm inside Cold's jeans as his mouth moved up to his ear and licked the rim. Cold growled, and gripped Barry by the front of his burgundy Henley, spinning them with a speed only The Flash could match.

Rather than the opposite wall this time, Cold rolled them to the right, which actually gave Cisco an even better view, mostly of Cold and the space between them, and…oh god. Cold was kissing Barry again, biting at his lips, while he fought furiously to get Barry's jeans open. He slid his hand in rougher than Barry had been stroking him, but Barry didn't seem to mind. He moaned into their kiss and rocked into Cold's grasp.

"Been missing me again, Scarlet?" Cold said through a grin when Barry's now shaking—whoa, no, vibrating—hands undid Cold's jeans in turn to better get at him, get at each other.

Then the jeans were coming down, on both of them, caught on their thighs but clearly revealing their hard, throbbing lengths as their underwear came down too. Their hands were all over each other, hips moving to clash their dicks together, mouthing each other's jawlines.

Cisco took another sip of coffee and realized it was already half gone. He shifted in his seat. Clung tighter to the paper cup, because—no, no way would he put the cup down. Never. If he did, if his hands were free…

Shit.

Fuck.

He was definitely breaking every tenet of the Bro Code right now. But he still didn't look away.

Because there were obviously some Flash related, uh, perks Barry had neglected to tell him or Caitlin. Unless Caitlin knew, and if he she did, shenanigans on both of them!

Barry could vibrate. Which of course Cisco knew that, but he could…vibrate everything, all at once or individually, and seemed to know how to focus it right at his hips, and his hands were they touched Cold so that both of them received the benefit of just how holy-fucking-shit that must feel.

They didn't even really moan so much as gasp, and occasionally release low, barely audible whines. Barry sounded so needy. Cold sounded even needier, and wow, Cisco had never quite given the guy credit for his voice, because his voice like THAT? Cisco knew he was at more than half-mast at the moment, and he wasn't even into guys, okay, he wasn't. He could appreciate a man. He wasn't fully one-sided on the Kinsey scale, he'd given gay porn a shot a few times and been adequately aroused, but he'd never imagined he'd get so turned on by a free show from his best friend and his almost-not-quite-girlfriend's brother.

He was the lowest human being on the planet. But hey, they were the ones macking in the elevator!

He returned to drinking his coffee, and keeping his hands safely occupied.

They were getting close, Cisco could tell. They moved faster, couldn't even bother kissing anymore, just panted beside each other's ears as they tried to connect every inch of their bare skin, hands flying, Barry's blurring, and then crack! Barry had them against the other wall again, Cold plastered against it, and Barry's whole body—his whole body vibrated as he came, and Cold rutted forward desperately several moments more until he followed after Barry with a choked off, "F-Fuck."

"Yeah…" Barry nodded into Cold's shoulder, their bodies stilling, sagging, relaxing around and into each other like gears slotting into place.

Cisco downed the last of his coffee. When he shook it to be sure it was empty, he still clung to the cup for fear of wanting to relieve the pressure watching those two had caused. Guilt swirled in his gut, and he knew he'd have to tell Barry he'd seen this. Normally, picturing his friends naked was a surefire way to lose a boner. Now, thinking 'Captain Cold naked in a bank vault' would likely conjure up some insane rendezvous with Barry fucking him against a pile of money.

Wow, Cisco needed a drink. One with liquor. Not more coffee. He was starting to shake from drinking the caffeine so fast. Like Barry could shake. Vibrate…

Fuck. They we starting to disentangle. Cisco would have to admit he was here soon. He needed to calm down. He tried to think of something else.

Cold tied up and on his way back to Iron Heights! Tied up…with The Flash leading him away…only to have his wicked way with him back in a squad car, shit!

Cisco dropped his head miserably to the desk, tearing his gaze from the scene for the first time. He wouldn't even be able to picture them in some benign situation anymore like…eating ice cream or something without thinking about…Barry licking some of that ice cream off of Cold's—

Ah!

"Here," Barry's voice came over the speakers.

When Cisco looked up, there was a blur, and shock of lightning, and they were both dressed again, wiped clean by what looked to be a handkerchief Barry had been carrying in his pocket.

"Which one of us is the old man again?" Cold smirked at him.

"Shut up." Barry moved to stuff the crumbled up ball of fabric in the pocket of Cold's jacket.

"Excuse me?" Cold pressed back into the corner of the elevator. "I don't think so."

"Oh come on, I don't want it back in my jeans' pocket. You didn't mind wiping your hand off in that stolen police jacket after jerking me off in the precinct."

Dude, what?! What the fuck had these two been up to!? And for how long?

"That, as you so aptly put it, wasn't mine. This is."

Barry sighed. "Fine. But don't act like you don't appreciate how much easier cleanup is with me around."

"Oh I appreciate plenty." Cold grinned again as Barry shoved the handkerchief away. He moved into Barry's body in one fluid motion, Barry meeting him with a pleased smile and parted lips. Cold's hand cupped the side of Barry's face, Barry's hands went to Cold's hips, and it was…sweeter this time. Softer. Not the kind of thing one allowed when fooling around with a fuck buddy, because it led to all sorts of mixed emotions.

And that was just it, Cisco realized, the cold shower he needing coming to him finally with that realization—there were emotions involved, not just sex.

He waited for them to pull apart, waited another minute or so for their conversation to drop back to something safer and not related to their escapades, and for his arousal to dwindle with it, thank god, before turning on the microphone.

"Hey, guys, just got in. Sorry about the elevator. I'll have you out of there in a sec." He was getting better at lying, apparently, because his voice didn't waver.

He did have them out of there in only a couple minutes, but he knew he started acting weird the second he saw them, how could he not? He tried to pass it off as having drank his coffee on the way there way too fast, but he wondered if Cold knew something else was up from the way the man arched his brow at him.

Eventually, Cold had to leave, but was confident with the part he'd play in their upcoming mission, congenial enough these days, even asked Cisco pointedly when he was going to actually ask his sister on a date, or did he require a chaperone? Cisco felt a little like his normal self when tossing back a snappy retort.

But once Cold was gone, all of Cisco's guilt and anxiety returned. He was awful, just plain awful for having watched the whole thing, he knew it, so he had to come clean. Still, Barry had been at this for some time with Cold, that was obvious enough, and he hadn't mentioned a word of it to Cisco. If it was just sex, maybe, maybe Cisco would have been able to let it go, but this was more than that. Cisco knew what Barry's moon eyes looked like.

So he waited until Barry was taking a swig of the last of his own coffee before saying, "So when did you and Cold start sucking each other's dicks?"

Thankfully, Barry was facing away from the computer terminals when he sprayed his coffee all over the floor.

* * *

TBC...


	6. Bet I could give you an orgasm

Barry snickered to himself as he slipped undetected into the current safe house Len was holed up in. He had checked two others first—the one with the alley were they'd first had sex, and another they'd barely made it into the door of before screwing on the floor after another foiled heist.

Barry didn't even know why Len bothered stealing things from Central anymore. He was busy enough with the Legends, and Barry wasn't foolish enough to think Len didn't take every opportunity to steal things from the past and future when he had the chance. Maybe it was just a bonus opportunity to see him. After all, Barry had been rather busy himself, taking care of Zoom. Sometimes, when Len was in Central, they didn't even see each other.

So if a heist was the only way they found time to sneak away for a romp, so be it. But for once Barry knew Len was in town and was blessedly free from obligations. He'd considered a quick booty call, then decided to seek the Rogue out in person instead. He'd been picking a few things up at the grocery store when he found himself standing before cocoa mix and mini marshmallows, and had laughed so hard for a few minutes, an older woman coming down the aisle gave him a funny look.

Barry hadn't grabbed the cocoa mix though. He could do better than powder. He'd bought 2% milk, real chocolate to melt, a little bit of caramel syrup, and of course purchased the mini marshmallows. He zipped home for a couple mugs—the reindeer one for Len, and one of the Santa mugs for himself—and commenced his search for Captain Cold.

He finally found him in one of the larger safe houses, the last one Barry knew about, in the main room sectioned off from the rest with a large table for gatherings. Barry dropped off the supplies in the kitchen first, then peeked in on Len to see him pouring over blueprints for a heist—or so Barry assumed. It could be Legends business, but Barry figured it was more likely the former.

He busied himself in the kitchen making the cocoa, as quietly as he could so Len wouldn't know he was there just yet. No one else was in the safe house, so he didn't worry about not having his suit along, dressed in a soft, warm sweater and jeans. He was pleased and not altogether surprised to find some Jameson in one of the cabinets in the kitchen. He added a shot of that to Len's cocoa, though didn't bother with his own. The one thing he waited to add was the mini marshmallows.

Barry whooshed into the room Len was in and deposited the bag of marshmallows so swiftly, one second there was nothing, then suddenly there they were on top of Len's plans. Barry watched from the doorway and caught the immediate smile that stretched across the Rogue's face, sweeter at first, before Len caught himself and molded it into a smirk.

"Cute," Len said, quietly, as if to himself, though loud enough that Barry heard.

Barry zipped back to the kitchen, but carried the mugs carefully into the meeting room. Len laughed openly when he saw him with the reindeer and Santa mugs that were well overdue to have been stored away for the holidays. Len ripped the bag of marshmallows open at Barry's approach.

"The plan was to flash in with the cocoa too," Barry said, "then I remembered how badly that sort of thing works out using my speed, and decided normal pace is better when carrying scalding drinks."

Len chuckled, and popped one of the marshmallows into his mouth. "What's the occasion?"

"It's cold out," Barry shrugged, setting the mugs down at the edge of the table, away from the spread out blueprints. "Plus I have the day off, saw the marshmallows at the store, and thought of you." Barry hopped up onto the table next to the mugs and scooter Len's closer to him.

He saw the flicker of trepidation on Len's face though. The sentiment Barry had admitted was too sweet for their normal rendezvouses, too much like a date, like a relationship. Len tried to hide the tension that gripped his shoulders, but Barry caught it.

"Thought of me, huh?"

"Yeah," Barry shrugged again, trying not to look at the blueprints, even if it might give away what Len was planning next for his Rogues while in town. He looked right at Len, caught his gaze, and ran his tongue over his teeth. "Thought about sucking your cock after taking a drink of the cocoa to warm my mouth, see how much it makes you squirm."

Instant relaxation from the dear Captain. That was better. If it stung a little how much Len shied from anything outside their banter and romps in the bedroom—well, they'd never actually made it into a bedroom—Barry tried not to dwell. They'd been sleeping together for months now. Their arrangement worked. When they crossed paths, they fucked. Otherwise, Len did his thing; Barry did his. They could go weeks without even seeing each other.

But every time Len was away on a mission, or Flash business made Barry too busy…he missed Len. And it wasn't just the banter or the sex, but the closeness. Of being with someone who knew him, every part of him, and he never had to hide. On occasion, something deeper than sex would slip in when they were together, but they never discussed it, never nurtured it, just let the moment linger, and pass, and then return to what was easier.

"Never tried that trick before," Len said, eyeing the cocoa and then Barry's lips pointedly.

"Interested?" Barry snagged the bag of marshmallows to add a handful to both his and Len's mugs, covering the entire top. Len nodded in approval. Then Barry reached for the blueprints.

Len slammed his hand on the table to keep the plans in place, brow drawn tight in challenge, but Barry merely grinned and reached for them again.

"Just moving them aside so we don't make a mess. Flash and Cold business stays separate. Except for the part when we fuck afterward," Barry said.

Len hesitated, but conceded, pulling back, and watched as Barry gathered the scattered papers and pushed them into the center of the table. He handed Len his mug, took his own, and moved until he sat on the edge at the head of the table, legs dangling off of it facing the chair Len had been standing in front of. He sat in it now, and scooted forward so that Barry's legs had to spread to accommodate him. They shared their first drink of the hot, creamy beverage Barry had made for them.

Len hummed in approval, no doubt tasting every nuance of flavor, including the whiskey. "Now this is cocoa. You spoil me, kid."

"Least I can do after knocking you around so many nights."

"Who's knocking who now?"

"Mmm, way I remember, depends on our mood." Barry lapped a marshmallow into his mouth with a slow extension of his tongue. Len watched the motion with rapt attention.

"So…" Len leaned back in the chair more fully, spread his own legs, though Barry couldn't quite see between them with the way Len was pushed close to the table. He held the mug in one hand, and ran the other up Barry's denim-clad thigh above him. "About that trick you mentioned?"

Barry took another small sip of his cocoa, not wanting to waste it when he had better plans in mind. "Don't I need to warm you up a bit first?"

"I think I'm warmed."

"Oh yeah?"

"Just put your hand under the table and feel it, Scarlet. See for yourself."

Barry felt himself pulse hot from the cocoa and Len's confidence. With his own legs spread, Len tucked in close to them, hand on his thigh, he already tingled with anticipation. He held his Santa mug close, and reached down with his right hand between his thighs and then between Len's in the chair, until he found what he was looking for. Len was hard and hot in his dress pants, his button down tucked in but unbuttoned at the top, with a jacket hung over the back his chair.

Barry squeezed Len through his slacks, saw the twitch in Len's jaw more than he heard any hitch of breath, and set his mug to the side. Then he took Len's mug and set it aside as well. "Might need more evidence than just that. You sure you're warmed up enough to get as hot as I'm planning?" He climbed into Len's lap, straddling him in the chair, and rocked forward until he felt Len's hardness brush his jeans.

He coiled his hands, warm from holding the cocoa, around the back of Len's head, pressed down against him once more, and latched onto Len's mouth, open and wanting. They kissed furiously, deep and heated without any preamble of softness or being tentative. There was no need. They knew what they wanted, had been with each other so many ways now, they slotted together and drew out the exact sensations they wanted from each other with barely any effort.

Barry cloyed deep for Len's tongue, held onto his neck, and let a vibrating shiver run through him from his spine down into his hips. Len moaned into his mouth, and Barry rocked forward again, feeling constricted himself now with how hard Len was as he pushed up into him.

"Gotta bit of a time limit today, kid," Len whispered, shuddering beneath Barry as he mouthed along his jawline and held Barry against him with one hand around his waist.

"I can be fast. Still want that heated blowjob? Bet it would be fun."

"Definitely, yes, but we only got about an hour. Rogues meeting at 3pm. You understand."

Barry paused in his own careful tonguing of Len's ear. "You mean 4pm?"

"Nice try, kid. 3pm."

But Barry wasn't making a joke. His entire body stilled, and he pulled back to look Len in the face. "But it's…3pm now."

"No, it's…" Len looked down at his watch, which read 2:05—but the second hand wasn't moving. It had stopped almost an hour ago. It had been only about five minutes to 3pm when Barry was in the kitchen making the cocoa. Len's eyes went wide as he looked at Barry. "Shit."

Almost immediately, the sound of several voices filled the safe house, filtering in through the open door to the meeting room. Barry didn't know who all Len counted among the Rogues now, but he knew that was more than just Lisa, Mick, and Hartley, which wouldn't have been as disastrous.

As the voices drew closer, Len pushed Barry from his lap and shoved him underneath the table. The shape and size would easily hide him from anyone coming in or sitting around it, but why was Len hiding him? Barry could just have easily flashed out of there.

So either Len—who usually thought of everything—hadn't considered that option, or he wanted Barry on hand for later. That devious thought gave Barry a devious thought of his own when Len handed him his Santa mug to avoid questions about why there were two mugs on the table. Barry carefully set the mug aside, then proceeded to reach forward and undo Len's pants.

"What are you doing?" Len hissed, hands resting atop Barry's like clamps to stop him.

"Bet I could give you an orgasm without anyone noticing." Barry stilled his hands but batted his eyes at Len coyly, daring him to say no.

The heat in Len's stare said everything, how interested he was at the prospect, the thrill of it—of doing something so dirty with a room full of people, almost like what Len had done for Barry in the precinct.

Len released Barry's hands. Barry grinned wider back at him and finished undoing Len's pants until he had him pulled out to the open air. He was a little softened now, given the cold shower they'd both received at the Rogues' arrival, but oh, Barry knew he could warm Len back up quickly.

Len scooted in close to the edge of the table to hide his nakedness from view of the others, as Barry ducked back underneath and kept his Santa mug close…just as the several voices they'd been hearing burst into clarity upon entering the room.

"Why does everything have to explode with you? Hey, boss!" came Hartley's voice first.

"Because it's funny," Axel said in a far too nonchalant voice for Barry's liking. The kid was way too much like his father.

"I don't mind explosions," Mick said next. "Don't think that means you can have my seat, Walker," he called more gruffly, as the chairs started to shuffle around, being pulled out, filled with a sitting Rogue. Barry kept himself close to Len and to the center of the table, hoping no one stretched their feet out too far.

"What we in for this time, boss?" Bivolo asked—damn, Raider too? Barry felt mildly cornered, would have worried about an ambush if he didn't currently have a clear view of Len's dick.

"You'll find out soon enough, Roy. Everyone, have a seat."

Barry heard Lisa and Shawna Baez chatting as they joined the others at the table, heard Mark Mardon too.

"All accounted for, Lenny," Lisa said when the rest quieted down, sounding from the other end of the table, probably at the opposite head to counter Len, while the others sat between them. "What's the mark?"

"Hart, spread out the blueprints for our fellows to see," Len said, since he couldn't exactly stand up and spread them out himself.

Shuffling papers sounded as the young meta complied.

"That a reindeer mug, Snart?" Mardon said with snide, teasing tone.

"That it is, Mardon," Len grinned—Barry could just make out the expression from where he crouched, as he looked up at Len and saw him take a slow, satisfied draw from the mug. "Apologies I don't have one for you. This mug's one of a kind."

It was too. The West house used to have more, but most of the side character mugs had broken through many Christmases, leaving only the Santa set. The reindeer and a stray snowman were the only others still in one piece. Barry doubted Joe would miss it if he let Len keep it.

"Ooo, marshmallows!"

"Knock yourself out, Axel," Len said, and tossed the younger Rogue the bag. "Now to business…"

Now or never, Barry thought, if he was going to go through with this. He reached his hand between Len's legs, cupping his balls in his warm hand, and slid his thumb up the base. Len shifted his hips, spreading his thighs a little wider, but didn't otherwise give anything away in his expression.

Barry could play this game, though to be honest he was more interested in getting Len to react than managing this without anyone noticing.

He circled his thumb around Len's slit, spreading the budding moisture there, and dragged his thumb down until he fondled Len's balls again. He moved closer, settled between Len's legs, Santa mug positioned carefully beneath the chair so he wouldn't accidentally knock it over, and licked a smooth stripe up Len's cock from base to tip.

Nothing. Not even a waver in Len's voice. Not that Barry was paying too much attention to the words. He wanted to be surprised the next time he faced the Rogues, so he cataloged only a few details—Art Institute, exhibit on loan, big haul needing all of the Rogues, next Saturday night—and decided he'd ask some of his friends from Star City for a little help when the time came. For now, he focused on Len's hard dick in his hand, quivering beneath the attentions of his tongue.

Barry pulled back. Brought his mug up, Took a long swallow of cocoa. Then quickly leaned forward and sucked Len in at the tip.

"Everyone has their mark, noted easily by the co—ah!" Len cut off in a gasp, and quickly turned the unexpected exclamation of pleasure into a cough. He cleared his throat before continuing, as if something had gone down the wrong pipe, and spoke on without drawing too much attention. "Noted by the colors positioned on the map."

Len was a pro all right, but Barry was just getting started.

He licked around the head, sucking hard, but not taking Len in too deep just yet. His right hand kept a constant motion around Len's balls and his base, squeezing gently, rolling the tender skin in his palm, as he licked Len's head once, twice, but felt the heat quickly leaving his mouth. He took another drink from the mug.

This time he sucked one of Len's balls fully into his mouth, and had to be careful not to release it with a telling pop. Then he did the same with the other.

Len merely slowed his speech so he could take a longer breath between sentences, no otherwise telling signs to give himself away to the Rogues. He was ready for Barry now, apparently, and whatever he might do. Or so he thought.

Barry took another drink. Sucked a finger into his mouth and held it there for a count of twenty. Then he slid it beneath Len's balls and teased gently at his mostly impossible to reach entrance from this angle, but oh, he knew a graze would be more than enough.

Len still had the reindeer mug in his right hand, occasionally stealing sips of his own, but his left hand settled under the table on his thigh and tightened into a fist. Opening, curling his fingers around in a flourish of motion, then tightened again. Len could have conducted an orchestra with how his hands spoke for him. Beautiful. Expressive. Repeating those same motions again and again to keep himself focused while he continued explaining the heist.

Clever.

Barry took another drink of cocoa, only a few long draws left, and waited for the next moment Len fanned out his fingers. The moment it happened, Barry grasped the hand at lightning speed, and sucked Len's pointer finger into his mouth. Coiled his tongue around it. Sucked it in deep. Let saliva build and coat it until some of the moisture dribbled from the corners of his lips.

Still Len's voice remained steady, no more slip ups, even as he tried in vain to pull his hand from Barry's grasp, and his breathing distinctly picked up pace.

"We can go over everything again in finer details the night before," Len said, clearly trying to wrap this up quickly, "for now I just need to know everyone's in, and understands their role."

A murmur of agreements flitted around the table. A few questions arose that Len tried to answer succinctly. He'd dismiss the Rogues soon, Barry could sense it.

He released Len's hand and took one last long drink of his cocoa. Set his mug down under the chair. Gripped Len's thighs. And in one deft swoop, deep throated him with his nose pressed to the coiled hair beneath Len's bellybutton, face trapped between his nemesis' gorgeous thighs.

Finally, another gasp. Another cough to hide it.

Barry sucked harder.

"Good enough? I have things to get back to. Know your roles. Be ready. Ask any further questions that come up later."

"Trying to get rid of us, Lenny?" Lisa threw back at him.

"Things to do, Lisa. Nothing personal."

Barry sucked, and sucked, and just as Len opened his mouth to speak again—

"See you all the Friday before, so don't get co—ugnnn!"

—vibrated his throat and tongue around every inch of Len's cock.

The moan was unmistakable. Barry tried not to giggle. He knew how bad it could be if he was actually caught under the table. For him. For Len. He'd have to flash away, and then they'd know their boss was sleeping with the enemy. But Piper already knew. And in that moment, Barry couldn't care about anything but breaking Len's usually unbreakable façade.

He considered pulling away, but Len's hand beneath the table tangled in his hair, pleading without having to hold in him in place that he not stop, not yet, not when Len was close, almost ready to—

"Boss, you okay?" Bivolo asked.

—come, thigh muscles clenching, fingers tugging tight on Barry's hair, hard enough that he nearly moaned around Len's cock as he continued to suck him dry, vibrating through the orgasm until he was sure Len was done. Then he slid off slowly, still licking at Len's dick and enjoying the sweet aftertaste of cocoa on his tongue.

Len openly grimaced and pushed his mug away from him, feigning discomfort rather than the relief Barry knew he had given him. "Sour stomach, Roy. Must have been something I ate."

Or someone eating him, Barry thought with a wicked grin, licking Len's head one last time for good measure.

"What was that you were about to say, boss?" Hartley asked in a very knowing sounding voice. "Don't get…cocky?"

Barry tensed a little as his adrenaline started to come down and he remembered that he was currently surrounded by several of his enemies. And Hartley knew. He totally knew someone was under the table.

"Especially you, Hart," Len said. "Now dismissed."

"Fat chance getting ME to call you 'boss'," Mick grumbled, but with a sort of gruff fondness Barry expected, as the chairs all scraped the floor being pushed back.

Barry sighed in relief. Most of them left fairly quickly after that, no other words exchanged. Until Barry heard Hartley giggle.

"Sitting pretty, boss?" he asked.

"Out, Hart," Len ordered severely.

Barry heard the scamper of feet exit the room. Len didn't move though. Didn't get up from his chair or look down at Barry, not even to glare at him for the disaster that had almost been. He remained staring up over the table. Someone was still in the room.

"Yes?" Len finally said.

"Just a thought," came Lisa's voice from near the door. "If I were to peek under this table right now, how scarred for life would I be?"

Shit. Len's guarded expression immediately fell. If she was anything like Iris, she'd make good on that threat if he tried to evade her. So he didn't. "Less if you gave me time to tuck myself away, sis."

"Ew, Lenny!" Lisa called after a groan caught between disgust and laughter. "He better be pretty if Hart knows who you're fucking before I do. That kid has no poker face. Come on, sweetheart," she called beneath the table. "Let me see you."

Oh shit, if Barry came out, she'd know, she'd recognize his face as Cisco's friend from the bar, and everything would fall into place like dominos. But if he didn't come out, she'd just look for herself.

"He can't come out, Lisa," Len said.

"Why not?"

"Because he's The Flash."

Barry's breath caught. Was Len giving him up?

"Now I definitely need to see him."

"No. You don't. He's not wearing his mask."

The hand in Barry's hair hadn't moved, but ran through the strand gently now, a soothing, almost absent gesture that reassured Barry. Len wasn't giving him up, he was protecting him, protecting his identity like Barry had asked of him, while also revealing something of himself to his sister by admitted who he was seeing. Barry pressed his forehead to Len's knee in gratitude.

"Can't suck dick with your mask on, Flash?" Lisa challenged playfully. "Pretty sure it had an opening in the mouth…"

"Lisa…" Len said warningly.

"Just teasing. But if you were only fuck buddies, Flash, there's no way Len would have let you get away with what you just pulled during a team meeting. So sometime soon, honey, I get to meet you out of that suit. Bye now!"

Barry sighed. She knew his normal voice, so he figured there was no hurt in calling back, "Bye, Lisa."

He heard the door click when she left. Only then did Len push the chair back, stand, and tuck himself away, though he didn't bother doing up his slacks.

Barry crawled out, Santa mug in hand, wondering if Len was upset he'd gone through with that, or maybe upset that Lisa had found out about them. If he fell into his usually fumbling ramblings he'd give away how much he never wanted to make Len angry. He liked making Len…happy. Liked making Len moan, sure, but it wasn't only about that, not anymore, and Barry didn't know if he could admit that just yet. He'd admitted too much in some of their previous encounters.

So instead he set the mug on the table next to Len's, leaned back against it, and looked up at Len through hooded eyes. "You gonna pay me back for that, or what?"

Len surged forward, hefting Barry fully onto the table in one smooth, powerful motion, and pushed him back until Barry toppled over, nearly sending both mugs to the floor. Len unbuttoned Barry's jeans, tore at his zipper, and tugged them half down his ass before grunting out, "Something like that."

The glint in Len's eyes held no anger, only heat, only want. But more want than what either of them had admitted to so far.

Barry sighed and relaxed back against the table as Len started to pull his jeans the rest of the way off.

Then the door opened. "Boss? Hey, Flash," Hartley said with a grin in his voice—and on his face, though upside down from Barry's perspective when he leaned his head back to look at him. Hartley had no reservations about devouring the scene with his gaze. "I don't suppose—"

"No!" Len and Barry both called in perfect unison. Barry would have laughed at how in sync they were, if he wasn't anxious for Len's payback—without an audience this time.

Hartley groaned in disappointment, but before he could protest, a lovely feminine hand appeared, gripped the back of his shirt, and hauled him out of the room again.

"Would you mind?" Len looked down at Barry with a raised eyebrow. His pupils were so dark, Barry could barely make out any of the usually brilliant blue.

Barry nodded, flashed over to lock the door, carefully set the mugs and blueprints on the floor off to the side, and returned to the exact same spot he'd left in the blink of an eye.

With a pleased smirk, Len pulled Barry's jeans the rest of the way off. Then returned for his underwear. Once Barry was bare from the waist down, Len glanced around, retrieved his reindeer mug that had more remaining cocoa in it than Barry's, and took a long gulp.

"Now where were we?" he said, and descended between Barry's legs.

* * *

TBC...


	7. A few minutes and you're already begging

Thank you, Snowy19! This one's for you.

* * *

Oliver didn't buy for a second that the reason Barry asked if Laurel, Thea, and Felicity could help him in Central City for a night dealing with a Rogues' heist, and not Oliver or Diggle, was because, "Someone needs to stay in Starling to protect the masses, right?"

No, Oliver had the sneaky suspicion that Barry didn't want him and John being too hard on his villains. Which really, Barry's relationship with his villains was definitely cause for concern. Oliver might not kill anymore, but going easy wasn't what that translated to. Bad guys needed to be stopped. Sometimes that meant bruises and broken bones on the way to the police.

Oliver also doubted that Felicity helping at STAR Labs, and only Laurel and Thea as additional backup in the field would be enough against all of Snart's Rogues, if he'd picked up on what Barry had told them correctly. With everything that had happened with Zoom, and Snart and Mick Rory along for the ride with the Legends crew—yes, Oliver was aware Sara and Ray were part of that too, and that both of them seemed to defend Snart and Rory now as well—clearly Barry's mind was clouded on this issue, and Oliver needed to be there in case something went wrong.

It was highly likely that these villains—villains, not anti-heroes, or reformed thieves, if they were still planning heists with other criminals—would end up hurting Barry or someone else Oliver cared about if things went unchecked.

He also recognized that his fiancé, sister, and good friends would all seriously get on his case if he simply showed up. Better to hold back, see if he was actually needed, then rush in should a save be necessary. It wasn't that he doubted the ability of the others, but he didn't trust this scenario or that the Rogues would play as nice as Barry seemed to expect.

So Oliver stayed hidden—at first. Watched the Central City Art Institute from a safe distance when Barry, Laurel, and Thea hit the streets to initiate their counterattack against the Rogues. As soon as the large group of dangerous humans and metas attempted to make their getaway, Team Flarrow—for lack of a better term, even without Oliver technically present—sprang into action.

Despite the odds, the fight mostly went in favor of the good guys, since the Rogues were focused on escaping more than fighting. Oliver barely needed to lend a hand—or an arrow. But when Rainbow Raider and Heat Wave slipped through the cracks to burn rubber in a getaway car, Oliver shot at their tires to slow them down, making it easier for Thea to catch up to them.

Laurel took down Pied Piper and Trickster Junior all too easily, leaving them for the cops. Oliver never actually caught sight of Golden Glider—she was long gone. And none of them were able to stop Weather Wizard or Peek-A-Boo from flying and then 'bamfing' away as Barry called it, with some of the loot, but the priority was to stop and capture as many Rogues as possible, not only to protect innocents while allowing a clean getaway for known criminals.

It stood to reason that Oliver was disappointed and a bit concerned that Barry had left Laurel and Thea high and dry while chasing after Captain Cold. Snart may have been arguably the most dangerous of the Rogues, and their leader, but he was known to play nice with Sara, Ray, and the Legends. He wasn't worth going after alone.

None of the Rogues had gunned for blood when fighting against Speedy and Canary, no doubt on Snart's orders, so Oliver could accept that he'd been wrong about that, but still—2 against 7 weren't the best odds. They were lucky it had actually been 3 against 7 while Barry dashed off for his 1 on 1, and that the Rogues made off with as little loot as they did.

Other than hubris, Oliver couldn't for the life of him understand why Barry would think it the smart move to chase Snart down.

So while he left Laurel and Thea to pass off those they had caught to the police, he revealed himself to the others by connecting to STAR Labs.

"Felicity, patch me into Barry's comms."

"Oliver!" Felicity's shrilled back at him. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be—"

"I know where I'm supposed to be, Felicity, but I came where I was needed, and right now Barry needs backup before he gets so far off the grid with Snart, backup is no longer an option."

Cisco chimed in over the comms, sounding strangely stilted. "Uhh, G-Man, dude, you really don't want to tap into Barry's comms right now. He's got Snart taken care of, even turned things off from our end, so—"

"I'll be the judge of that, Cisco. I'd like an explanation for why he went after Snart alone. And why would he turn his comms off?"

"Oliver, really, it's fine…" Caitlin spoke next, sounding equally hesitant.

Were all of Barry's team members so flippant about him going off alone? "He left Speedy and Canary—"

"Only once he knew they had things covered," Felicity jumped in.

"And let several of the Rogues get away!"

"Dude, this isn't Star City, okay," Cisco again, "there are certain rules—"

"I'm not inclined to play Barry's little game with Snart, Cisco, letting him get away with stealing and property damage just because he keeps Barry's identity a secret and doesn't involve innocents in his heists. Now hack me into Barry's comms, to wherever his suit is located right now, so I can check on him myself."

A few moments of silence passed. Oliver paced on the rooftop he currently occupied, amazed Barry allowed this sort of behavior in his team, in himself, and that Felicity was apparently on board with it too—not to mention Laurel and Thea who had been put in harm's way! However only 'potential' that harm might have been.

"Okay, man," Cisco said in resignation, "but remember I warned you, and if Barry asks, I am so not responsible for this. Just know we will not be listening in. And please don't kill Snart…though you might be tempted to."

"What are you—"

"And Oliver," Felicity said sharply, "we're discussing your serious reprisal of trust issues when this is over."

Before Oliver could demand more of an explanation from Cisco, or beg Felicity's forgiveness early, the comms switched over and he could hear Barry on the other end—sounding winded and mid fight! Maybe 1 on 1 with Snart was more of a challenge than Oliver predicted. He picked up on the suit's location and raced across the rooftop to the next one as he listened in, thankfully only a few blocks away from wherever Barry had followed Snart.

"Seems your plans were spoiled again, Snart."

"Not so spoiled from my angle, Scarlet. Lisa, Mardon, and Baez made off with more than enough. Your friends gonna play nice with the rest of my crew?"

"Can't promise they won't get picked up by the police."

"Hart will be ever so disappointed."

"Somehow I doubt he'll stay in custody for long."

"You offering to help with the jail break, kid?"

A blast from the cold gun distinctly roared in Oliver's ears. He leapt to the next rooftop. Barry was a few blocks down but also across the street. If Oliver got into the right position, he'd have a clear view of the fight and be able to shoot Snart even from a sizeable distance.

"Maybe I've decided there are better ways to shut you up than by putting you in prison," Barry growled—growled? He didn't sound at all like what Oliver was used to.

"That so?" Snart shot back, then grunted as if he'd been rushed by Barry's power. There was the sound of clattering metal on cement, of the cold gun having been disarmed and dropped. Barry had him.

"Maybe I'm tired of your games. Maybe I'm ready to shut you up for good," Barry spoke roughly, his voice hoarse and strange. Had Bivolo gotten a look at him? Was Barry on the rampage?

Snart grunted again, like maybe he'd been hit. No. Thrown perhaps. Or flipped around. Then he cried out, audibly, desperately, as if in pain—oh god, Barry WAS on a rampage and out to hurt Snart. Out to kill him judging by what he'd said.

Was that why the others hadn't been getting involved? Did they know about this? Had it been planned? Or did they have no idea and had foolishly allowed Barry to go off on his own when he clearly wasn't in his right mind and was about to do something he'd regret?

Oliver had to get to him. Had to stop Barry before it was too late.

Snart moaned painfully, and Oliver's stomach clenched. He wouldn't have believed the man, usually so collected and in charge, could sound so in need of rescue, so helplessly at Barry's mercy.

Oliver vaulted the gap to the last building, easily making the wide berth and falling in a roll that he used to his advantage. He sprung back up to his feet and raced to the edge of the building to get a clearer view of where he'd tracked Barry.

Damn. As he got to the edge, he couldn't see through the boarded up windows across the street. He wouldn't be able to take a shot from here, or even see where Barry and Snart might be. He had to get inside. As he spotted a fire escape and window access inside through the top floor, he pulled out his grappling hook arrow and took aim across the street.

"Barry…" Snart pleaded, begging to be free of whatever Barry was doing to him.

Oliver held back the bile in his throat. He'd often wondered just how terrible Barry's powers could be if left unchecked, if someone evil were in possession of them—like Zoom—or if Barry ever somehow went evil himself or was set on another rage induced tirade. If this was that time, Oliver didn't know what he'd do. He'd have to incapacitate Barry somehow. He didn't want to think about what sort of state Snart was in.

"You act so tough," Barry's voice was still a low, dangerous growl, "but only a few minutes with me like this and you're already begging."

"Please…" Snart replied as if to say yes, he would beg if only Barry would stop.

"You're gonna have to offer a lot more than 'please' to get me to give you want you want tonight, Cold."

Oliver made it to the fire escape and through the nearest window. He raced through the top floor, relief flooding him when he burst out of an old office and found himself looking down on the rest of the warehouse spread before him. Barry and Snart were here somewhere—there! Oliver could see Barry looming over the man, laid back on some sort of table or platform, writhing and still making the most pitiable sounds. Oliver couldn't get a good look from this angle to see what Barry had done to him, but he had to take the shot, get Barry in the back, or maybe one of his legs, to save Snart form whatever torture he was under.

Oliver nocked an arrow, took aim—

Snart gave a wrecked moan.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?"

"Shit, kid, just fuck me already."

—what?

Oliver's arm slowly lost its tension as he lowered his bow and started an unhurried pace around the walkway suspended above where Barry and Snart were— _oh_. Once Oliver got a side view of what was really going on, his bow dropped completely and he nearly lost his arrow through suddenly numb fingers.

Snart's pants were down. Just his pants and underwear, the rest of his costume, goggles and all, still on, as Barry's gloved fingers twisted up inside him between his legs—fingering him, working him open, right there on a dirty table in an abandoned warehouse, as if there was nothing bat shit crazy about what Oliver was witnessing.

"Please…" Snart pleaded again, neck arching as his head pressed back into the table.

"You get all hot and bothered from the heist, Cold?"

"Mmm…love it when you come in guns blazing, Scarlet…thinking you can stop me."

"I did stop you."

"I'd call it a draw."

"Really?" Barry said dangerously.

The noise Snart released next was positively filthy, torn from his lips in a long keen. Barry's hand, and Oliver could only assume the fingers deep inside Snart, too, blurred with speed like they were vibrating. Oliver swallowed low in his throat at the sight. That he had not been aware Barry could do.

Snart muttered out a stream of curses.

"Tell me you love when I make you beg for it."

"I…I love when you make me beg, Barry."

 _Jesus_.

"Tell me what you want me to do," Barry said in a voice that made Oliver shiver—and Oliver never shivered. The speed of Barry's hand had increased; he had at least three fingers in Snart.

"Fuck me," Snart gasped. "Need your cock…so deep in me, I'll see stars when I come."

"If I let you come," Barry rumbled, leaning over Snart, lips almost brushing the other man's. "And it'll be more like lightning, not stars," he added with a sinister snicker, his eyes actually sparking yellow.

Snart moaned louder, drawn out longer. "Please…"

Finally, Barry pulled away, reaching for the lube and condom on the table. On the table—ready for them, clearly planned.

Oliver raised his bow again, so sorely tempted to fire, at either of them. This was what all of this nonsense with the Rogues was about? Because Barry was fucking Leonard Snart? For how long? And how much did Barry let Snart get away with because of it?

"Cowl on or off?" Barry asked in his more normal voice, though a little husky with arousal.

"Keep it on tonight."

Barry grinned as he unzipped his suit, removed his gloves, and rolled the condom up his unmistakable erection, before coating it liberally with lube. How relaxed, how carefree he was with Snart when the guises fell away only made Oliver angrier.

All this—for Snart. For a criminal.

"Think the Rogues would be pissed if they knew you had them steal something for the Legends tonight?"

Oliver's tension snapped as quickly as it had rekindled. He lowered the bow again. Not that he seriously would have fired. Probably.

"They'll get their shares. Won't care how or why. It's the game more than the money, kid, you know that."

"For you, not for all of them."

"Will you shut up and fuck me already?"

Barry giggled, which was more than just being comfortable with Snart, Oliver realized, but being…happy, blissful. "So impatient. Thought you liked it when I slowed down…when I make you wait for it."

Snart's head lolled back as he gasped at the feeling of Barry leaning into him, just the tip pressing to his entrance when Barry gripped his hips and tugged him to the edge of the table. It was daunting, Barry's show of strength, being able to manhandle Snart with such ease. Oliver's fears over Barry's unchecked power weren't unfounded, they just had no place in what was happening tonight.

Oliver could admit, Barry standing there in his Flash suit, cowl on but suit unzipped down past the fly with his dick out, sliding slowly into Snart, whose pants were barely at his knees, cold gun on the floor, goggles covering his eyes but not hiding his expression of eager want, of full surrender to Barry, just—wow. This wasn't anger or a power play, beyond enjoying a little roleplay in the way Barry gruffed out, "Yeah…you like it when I fuck you in costume."

There was trust there. Respect. Affection.

Barry was in worse trouble than Oliver had guessed. And Snart was right there with him.

"Show me who's boss, Flash," Snart said with an ending whimper when Barry finally stroked home, buried to the hilt. "Yesss…teach me a lesson…tell me how this is your city."

"Our city…because I'm just nice enough to let you play in it, Snart, long as you behave. Can you do that? Hmm?" Barry steadied himself with a hand at Snart's hip, the other reaching for Snart's face, palming the side of his jaw as his thumb drifted lazily over damp, reddened lips. "Can you be good for me?"

"I can be so good for you…" Snart said, and licked Barry thumb when it brushed his lips again, taking it into his mouth readily when Barry pushed more insistently past his teeth.

It was obscene how good they looked, Snart tonguing Barry's thumb while Barry fucked him. Oliver had half a mind to shoot an arrow anyway, above their heads, into the wall behind them. Or maybe simply speak over the comms to interrupt, since he was conferenced in. But no. He'd let them have this. Then pay a visit later. To both of them.

Oliver switched his channel back to STAR Labs, speaking hushed, "Cisco, Caitlin…don't expect me to come into the labs tonight. And don't tell the others I was here. Especially not Barry."

"Oliver, what are you going to do?" Felicity asked warily.

"Just making sure the people I care about stay safe, Felicity. We'll have that talk later. I know I overstepped tonight, but this is something that needs to be done."

"Nobody has an arrow sticking out of their ass, right?" Cisco asked.

Oliver took in the scene one last time, the way Barry picked up the pace of his thrusts, fast, faster than a normal person could manage, soon vibrating as his fingers had vibrated. Snart blessed every action with mumbled words to the open air, with curses and pleading words and praises—when he wasn't sucking one of Barry's fingers into his mouth.

Oliver took a shaky breath to steady his pulse and turned to head back the way he'd come in. "Not yet. But the night's still young."

* * *

Len almost hummed in contentment as he let himself into the smallest of his safe houses, looking forward to a quiet night after the rigorous heist and subsequent foiling—though not completely foiled. Hartley, Axel, Bivolo, and Mick had all been picked up by the cops, but Mick had acquired a few toys from Palmer the last time they were on the Waverider. Getting out before they made it back to the precinct was a breeze.

Lisa had gotten away with the real prize that Len would turn over to Rip in the morning, while Mardon and Shawna took off with lucrative enough pieces to split profits amongst the group and call it a win. Nothing the Art Institute couldn't easily make up for in donations this year, and it gave Len plausible deniability about the artifact they needed for his next Legends trip.

And then of course there had been Barry. Definitely a win-win kind of night.

Which was why Len had chosen this particular safe house to sleep his soreness away in. If he had gone back to one the others were at, especially the one Hartley was camped out in, he'd have been subjected to relentless comments and questions about why his stride was a tad…off. Hartley would know damn well why, but he was always eager to hear about it. Len didn't doubt for a second the kid had listened in at some point—he'd definitely heard breathing over the comms.

The point was that Len should have had this small loft apartment he used as a crash-for-the-night-only safe house all to himself. He felt it instantly when that was no longer true. He'd pulled off his goggles, tossing them and his gloves on the nightstand, when he felt a presence, heard a sound like stretching or something being pulled taut.

"Didn't think you were out and about tonight, Mr. Queen. But my usual enemies don't carry around bow and arrow sets to threaten me with." Len had seen the Green Arrow's sister in red, who also sported a bow, but he could tell by the presence behind him that this person was larger than her slight form.

"Turn around slowly, Snart," Queen rumbled back, though not with the usual affectedness he used to mask his voice; it was clear Len already knew his identity after all. "And be careful what you say, and how you respond to my questions."

"Questions?" Len said, raising his hands as he pivoted, trying not to grimace as his sore body was strained even more—Barry had been a little overeager tonight, not that Len minded. Queen kept to the shadows of the corner by the now open window, bow drawn, arrow nocked in place, pointed at Len. "Is this about tonight's heist, Mr. Queen, or worried once again about your friends traveling with me through time? I assure you, Sara would fit in just lovely with my Rogues, if I can convince her. Even Raymond's been known to loosen up with the right amount of alcohol."

"I know tonight's heist was a ruse to get something for the Legends," Queen said. "No need for games."

Well that was no fun. Len lowered his hands, staring Queen down with interest. "And how did you hear about that?"

"Funny how many people have access to the Flash comms these days."

Len tensed. His cold gun was within easy reach in its holster, but he knew he wouldn't be quicker on the draw with Queen already aimed, not without a distraction, and even then. "You heard."

"I saw," Queen sneered.

Shit. "Lucky you. I take it you disapprove."

"I just have three questions for you, Snart. How you answer them determines whether or not I loose this arrow."

"So black and white, Mr. Queen? I tend to be a few varied shades of grey these days. What if I'm not in the mood to answer nicely?"

"Then I guess Barry's going to have to find a new fuck buddy."

Len itched for his gun. It shouldn't bother him as much as it did to hear someone dismiss what he and Barry had, to call them 'fuck buddies' when…that was all they were supposed to be. Fuck enemies maybe? Nemeses? Frenemies? Urg, Len was clearly spending too much time with the kid.

Queen took another step closer, highlighting the green to his costume as he entered the dim light of the room. "How long?"

No point in hiding that. "Months. Before my last stint in Iron Heights."

Queen nodded, suppressing any surprise he might have felt at learning that. "What's in it for you?"

"You mean besides the obvious?" Len leered. "You did get a peek after all. Kid's got some fascinating talents."

"That you're exploiting."

"Barry isn't complaining. Trust me."

"One more question, Snart," Queen stalked closer. An arrow from this distance would feel like a punch with a pike. Len held his ground though as the man's fierce eyes stared him down from beneath his hood. "What do you plan to do when this ends?"

 _When_ , Len noticed, not _if_ , and damn it if that didn't churn his stomach too. He never thought about it ending. Never thought about what they were doing, period, because they never talked about it, had a silent agreement not to poke that bear until forced to. Apparently Oliver Queen had no problem taking an arrow and jabbing said bear right through the eye.

Len considered his options. This safe house was fairly bare. But Len's goggles and gloves were at his elbow. Could he grab them, throw them at Queen to distract him, and pull his cold gun before he was skewered? He felt a strong desire to try, this man coming here, threatening him, making him…wonder. He let his right hand tease the hem of his parka where the holster was hidden.

"Are you saying you're planning to force it to end, Mr. Queen?" he asked as evenly as he could. Any second now, just a moment of hesitation when Queen made to speak, and Len would act.

But Queen didn't speak, not at first. He lowered his bow. "No. Though I have to say, Snart, you're not as good of a liar as I'd been led to believe." He put the arrow he'd drawn back in his quiver, hooked the bow to his back as well, facing Len unarmed, just vigilante against thief in a stare-down Len wasn't sure how to approach.

"What exactly did I lie about?"

Was that a smirk on Queen's face? "This isn't blowing off steam. I know what that looks like with someone of less…scrupulous morals. This isn't that. You have very subtle tells, Mr. Snart. Most people probably wouldn't notice them. It's what caused you to react that interests me. Clearly, you and Barry have a lot to discuss. At least I finally understand why you have such an…odd relationship for enemies."

He took another step forward, bringing them only a few feet apart. Len fought not to take a step back.

"I'm not going to tell you not to hurt him. No relationship ends without someone getting hurt. But when it does—if it does—don't twist that to your advantage. Don't be the man I thought you were. I'm hardly the most dangerous person you'll have to worry about if you do."

"Meaning?"

"My fiancé to start. I believe you've met."

Blond with a vacuum cleaner—or rather, when Cisco had a vacuum cleaner. He remembered. He also tried very hard not to feel a slight lightness in his chest that Queen had actually taken the time to correct himself and offer that elusive 'if' instead of 'when'. Len hadn't considered it ending. But he hadn't considered it…NOT ending either.

"I have another stop to make," Queen said, turning back toward the window. "Say hello to Ray and Sara for me the next time you see them. And please," he glanced back before climbing out into the night, "try and use a little more discretion with where you and Barry have your trysts. I don't exactly approve of this, of the way you work, the things Barry lets you get away with, but I can leave most of it alone. However, if any of your Rogues ever hurt someone I care about…we'll have words again."

Len stood for a long time just staring at the open window where Queen had exited. He was sore, and tired, and just wanted a hot bath and a long night's sleep. But he doubted his mind would quiet enough for restful slumber. Not now, when he'd been given so much to think about.

* * *

"Jesus fucking Christ, Oliver!" Barry exclaimed, then slapped his hands over his mouth when he realized what he'd just said. It was never a good idea to sneak up on him. His filters were bad enough, but startled they sort of…went on vacation.

Oliver pulled his hood back after climbing in through Barry's bedroom window, which Barry was fairly certain had been closed. He'd just gotten back from STAR Labs after checking in with the others. Cisco and Felicity had seemed twitchy, Caitlin a little more…frowny than usual, but Barry figured they probably just tuned into his comms at one point, or maybe turned them off too late. He HAD warned them.

Now he wondered if they'd known about Oliver and…shit, what did that mean?

Barry's eyes widened as he backed a step away from Oliver. "How long have you been—?"

"I just visited Leonard Snart."

"You—what?!" Barry surged forward, with half a mind to charge Oliver into the wall. "If you hurt him, I swear—"

"Not a scratch. At least not caused by me. From you tonight, I can only imagine. More vividly than I wish I could…" he added as a somewhat mumbled afterthought.

Barry blinked a few times, stepping back from how he had been about to grip Oliver by the front of his Arrow suit. "You saw? And you didn't kill Len over it?" He realized after he said the words that he probably shouldn't give Oliver any ideas.

Oliver looked…exasperated by Barry being a complete goon, which shouldn't be as common an expression as it was, but that's what Barry saw looking back from his friend. Not anger, maybe even a small smile.

Barry crossed his arms over the sweater he'd slipped on before coming home from the labs, hoping he could hide a little, maybe burrow into himself and disappear because wow, now even Oliver? And he'd thought the conversation with Cisco had been mortifying enough.

"I had to be sure there wasn't something more sinister going on, Barry, that he wasn't using you. You've had so much faith in him all this time, I didn't want to believe that was only because of your…nightly activities together."

Barry managed to hold back his lack of a filter's instant reaction to correct Oliver, because it wasn't only nightly. It had been during the day too. It had been during the day in the middle of the precinct that first time.

"And despite the armor Snart tries to wear, when it comes to you…he's actually pretty easy to read."

"What?" Barry blinked in confusion again, amazement, because what did that mean?

"It's still dangerous, Barry. I don't care how much he helps and saves people by working with the Legends. I don't care how many times he's helped your team. I don't care that his thieving ways are a bit of a front these days to work toward loftier pursuits—he's still a thief, still a criminal, and he works with dangerous people. So if you're serious about him…"

"Serious?" Barry grinned stupidly and scratched the back of his neck. "Oliver…"

"Don't let him get away with pretending he's not serious about you."

Barry froze again, his arms dropping to his sides, mouth gaping, as he stared.

"Now…no more date nights disguised as foiled heists."

Barry sputtered, "It wasn't…date night, geez, we just—"

"And if he ever takes advantage of what you two have, don't let him get away with that either. I won't. And I'm not the only one."

Barry thought of Iris and Felicity. And Joe—god Joe would be a disaster. Not to mention Cisco, Caitlin, Hartley would probably have a few pieces of his mind to share too. It was sort of insane how many people already knew about them and didn't have a problem with it (though he was pretty sure Iris and Joe didn't know yet). But now even Oliver?

Barry didn't know what to say. He knew how he felt about Len. It had been growing so steadily since, well, since the beginning, but definitely since that time in the alley. Barry had been so sure Len would never want more than what they had, and Barry would have been fine with that, could have lived with just sex and banter and team-ups. If more was there, then it was, well, THERE, they didn't have to talk about it and make things weird.

Though to be honest, Barry knew that the main reason he hadn't wanted to talk about what they were, what they could be, was the threat of finding out that the answer was…nothing.

"He cares for you, Barry. Just be careful," Oliver said, drawing Barry's attention back to him. "I'm not going to tell you that heroes can't be happy with the person they love—"

"Whoa, Oliver—" Barry's cheeks were on fire, he was certain.

"But," Oliver held up a hand to halt him, "we don't have the luxury of easy relationships either. Snart can protect himself. Just don't let any of this get warped into something else, or overshadow what it is you're really meant to do out there."

The coil in Barry's gut unwound slightly as he understood what Oliver was saying, because that had always been his first priority, to make sure he didn't let what he and Len did in private—well, private obviously wasn't the best word—affect his ability to be the hero the city needed. It was a unique arrangement with the Rogues, but Barry trusted Len to keep them in check, trusted that nothing too big would get destroyed, or stolen, or anyone hurt, and he'd gotten Laurel and Thea to promise they wouldn't overstep the rules either. They hadn't. Everything had turned out exactly as planned tonight.

Other than Oliver having witnessed Barry and Len's intimate rendezvous in the warehouse. Barry's cheeks were definitely on fire.

"I know, Oliver," Barry said once he'd reined himself in again, smiling through his embarrassment. "The city, saving people, that always comes first. I know what I'm doing." At least, he hoped he did. He wondered if he actually had until this moment, but he did know what he wanted.

Oliver nodded, smiled in that understated way of his, and turned back toward the window. But, as he raised his hood over his head, he paused and turned back. "How do you…" He made a somewhat abortive gesture as if his hand was trembling.

Barry squinted. What did he— _oh_.

"Um, I just sorta…do it? It's actually how my powers first manifested. Or, one of the ways. And at first I couldn't control it. It'd just happen if I got excited or turned on. Kinda embarrassing. Super helpful when I do it on purpose though, like…" Barry trailed as he saw the way Oliver's eyes widened, and he remembered what he was saying and who he was saying it to. "Oh my god, TMI, right? Sorry! I just, uhh…yeah, it's a thing I can do. Among like multiple orgasms and easier cleanup and—oh my god, I am still talking." He slapped his hands over his mouth as he had when Oliver first surprised him. This was worse though. He should stay like that, mouth cut off from ever speaking again, indefinitely.

"Goodnight, Barry," Oliver said with a twitch in his smile, maybe even some color in his cheeks that he hid by turning away. A moment later, he was gone.

Barry quickly shut the window. He leaned back against it feeling…warm all over, and a little nervous, like he had when this whole mess with Len first started. Oliver thought Len cared for him. Oliver had more or less given his blessing on the whole thing.

Barry's first instinct was to find his phone, send Len a text—but no, they never texted randomly. There was always purpose behind it. If one of them needed help. Or wanted to meet. That one time Barry was super horny and actually sent a dick pic, and Len called, and they proceeded to have phone sex while Len was on Rip's ship somewhere—Barry had no idea how he had reception—and Barry was alone in the cortex.

What would Barry even text tonight?

 _Sorry Oliver probably threatened you?_

 _Are we dating? Is this dating?_

 _Want to meet up again, because I could totally go for round 2?_

That one was tempting, but Barry settled on something that would make Len laugh and hopefully ease any tension Oliver's visit had left behind.

 _Tonight was fun. If Oliver gives you anymore trouble, just tell him he could put his smart mouth to much better use, but too bad for him, you already have someone to do that for you. ;-)_

XXXXX

Len was still soaking in the tub when his phone pinged. He hoped it wasn't Lisa. He was too tired to deal with anything serious right now.

Then he saw it was from Barry. His heart was in his throat up until the moment he read the text.

He laughed. Any further serious thoughts about what he and Barry were to each other, what they should do next, what the future might hold, could wait until another day. For now, all was right with the world.

Len texted back: _Damn right._

* * *

TBC...


	8. Please tell me you're watching the clock

When Barry ends up laid up on the Waverider for twenty-four hours, Rip crosses a line that Mick and Len both agree he needs to be punished for. OR Mick is really getting sick of Len pretending he's not in love with The Flash.

I wasn't planning on giving it to you so soon, but then I caught sight of a promo shot for the next Legends episode and realized the show was going to steal this idea I had, so I wanted to get my chapter done first in case there are any similarities. THEN I found out that CTV (lucky people in Canada) get to see the Legends episode early after the Super Bowl today! Well damn, I just had to get the chapter done last night and this morning then, and thankfully the new X-COM game meant Mr. Crimson was more than happy to leave me to my writing.

* * *

Mick hefted Flash's weight even more easily than he had carried Kendra. The speed force must have made his bones hollow like a bird, or work in contest with gravity, balance opposing forces somehow, something, because a grown man over six feet tall should not be that light. Made it easier to keep him steady though, barely a jostle as Mick carried Flash from the field of battle onto the Waverider.

Kid was unconscious. Not bleeding, not anywhere visibly anyway, but knocked out cold, with risk of internal injuries Mick could only imagine would heal as fast as Flash normally healed everything else. They were in Central, just a pit stop, helping take down the most recent wave of meta humans since they had the time—in some ways they ALWAYS had the time now—but when Flash got hit with a blast of something like an EMP before they managed to take the metas down, Mick had followed Len's orders to lug the kid back to the Waverider immediately, which was parked in an abandoned building nearby.

As soon as Mick crossed the threshold of the ship, Rip spotted him heading for the med bay and was hot on his heels.

"Mr. Rory, we have had this discussion," the man's clipped, precise speech trailed after him. "We have been in Central City, 2016, for all of three hours and already you're bringing someone unauthorized aboard?"

"Not exactly the typical stowaway, Cap," Mick gruffed out, ignoring Rip as he pushed on ahead to the med bay and entered swiftly until he was able to lay Flash on the bed. His cowl was still up, and Mick's first instinct was to pull it back, make it easier for Gideon to get a look at him, but he knew Len would be upset with him seeing the kid's face without permission.

Rip came up beside him, mouth already open in further protest when he took in the full form of their guest. "I see," he said more seriously. "Gideon!"

"Already in motion, Captain," Gideon's robotic but still personable voice responded.

Lights flared to life around The Flash as she scanned him.

"He, Mr. Rory, is an exception," Rip said.

"Got a soft spot for heroes, Rip?" Mick smirked at him, not that he was surprised the future-man knew Flash on sight. Mick and the others might not be legends—yet—but this kid, he'd be something Central City remembered for a long time if he kept up as he was.

"He built Gideon," Len's voice called from the entryway into the med bay.

Mick and Rip both turned to look at him. Mick knew Len would follow him once Ray and the others left with the captured metas to turn over to the police's taskforce. In any other situation, they would have brought Flash to STAR Labs, but the Waverider had been closer, conveniently parked near where the metas had been attacking.

"Or he will," Len clarified with a tilt of his head. "Eventually. If something happened to The Flash, we'd have another paradox on our hands. Right, Captain?"

"I'd complain about you knowing that, Mr. Snart," Rip said with his usual long-suffering sigh expression, "but I suppose The Flash hasn't heard my speech yet about not messing with timelines by divulging sensitive information."

"No. But he has given me a few versions. Does this time travel thing without the fancy ship, you know." Len leaned in the doorway, casual and seemingly unconcerned.

But Mick read the tension in the firmer set to his jaw, the way Len's arms were crossed, preventing his hands from being their usual expressive selves.

"Nothing to worry about, Captain," Len said, and Mick almost smiled at how that sounded more like personal reassurance. "As long as he's…still going to be around to make our metal friend." Len's hesitation betrayed him, something he rarely allowed, as his eyes drifted from Rip to land on Flash in the bed.

"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Snart," Gideon's voice called out to them. "And I am sure my creator does as well. He should be back to peak condition within a day's time."

"He's still unconscious, Gideon," Len frowned.

"Indeed. I am keeping him that way for now to encourage maximum efficiency in his advanced healing. He should awaken in a few hours."

All at once the tension drained from Len, arms dropping as he clasped his hands, wringing his fingers in a practiced motion to loosen the stiffness he'd been carrying. His jaw relaxed. Eyes shimmering for the briefest moment before he pulled on his best smirk and mask. "What would we do without our Scarlet Speedster?"

"You'd be a lot less tolerable," Mick huffed.

Len scowled.

Rip looked between them, then back at The Flash on the bed. His eyes widened…before he scowled too. "Ah yes. 2016. There are some parts of the past I'd rather not be privy to. Do try to behave while you're on my ship, Mr. Snart." Rip cast Len a warning look as he made to leave the med bay.

Len didn't move out of his path, taking up most of the doorway, so that Rip had to shuffle sideways to get past him. Served the guy right. But Mick figured he couldn't knock the man for being surly when his wife and kid had been iced by that immortal asshole. He'd be surly too. Surlier, anyway.

"Mick…" Len said a little too softly, too halted.

Mick eyed his friend. Len looked worn from the fight, face a little smudged, parka dirty, goggles askew around his neck. He usually found his whole Cold getup comfortable, but Mick knew that look. He wanted to be less encumbered while sitting vigil over Flash's bedside, and Mick knew Len wanted to sit with him, just didn't want to say it out loud.

"Change. I got 'im," Mick said. "You got the kid covered, right, Gideon?"

"He is in good hands, Mr. Rory."

Mick nodded.

Len sighed a little more openly than he would have allowed in Rip's presence, in most anyone else's presence among the Legends, save maybe Sara. He always looked simultaneously younger and older when he did that—dropped all of his pretenses and personas and was just…Len, worried about someone he cared for.

Mick wasn't used to seeing that expression in honor of anyone but Lisa. Had taken years before that looked appeared for Mick's sake. Now Mick had seen it for several others, little by little chipping away at the ice that had guarded Len long before he took up the name Captain Cold. But no one quite as powerfully as The Flash.

With a nod of his own, Len slipped off down the hallway to clean himself up from the fight.

* * *

It was late, Kendra and Carter asleep in their bunk, while Martin and Jax were off at their homes in Central, and Sara and Ray were visiting Starling. Rip was around the ship somewhere, though doubtful he was asleep.

Mick was restless. The fight had been good, but he would have preferred a stiff drink afterward instead of carting Flash back here and keeping watch over him and Len. He needed something to burn off his excess energy, and figured he might head to Saints or some other seedy bar for a late night beer and a brawl.

He heard the open laughter of The Flash as he rounded the corner. Kid must finally be awake.

"I did not! Firestorm blinded me. I wasn't throwing myself into danger needlessly. I couldn't see where I was going."

"Sure, Scarlet."

"I swear!"

Mick chuckled lightly too. Kid damn well HAD taken that blast in place of Len and everyone knew it. Not that Mick would expect any less from The Flash for others on the team, but with Len there was always something extra, always more attention placed on where he was in the battlefield, and Len was just as bad in return.

Mick didn't know when it had started, but he sure as hell knew long before Len's less than secret under-the-table blowjob at their Rogues meeting a couple weeks back. Len never got flustered, never distracted. Not even if he was getting some on the side. This was different. This had Len all sorts of twisted. And better off for it too.

Never had seen his friend so…happy, as he was fighting alongside heroes instead of against them. The way he looked at Flash. Way he slept better. Way his energy and creativity had skyrocketing like it hadn't since a good decade ago or more. Kid might as well have been a fountain of youth for Len, giving him a new cycle on life.

Mick slowed as he was about to pass by, thinking to duck his head in, but then…what if the Flash's mask was down?

"That you, Mick?" Len called. Course he knew Mick was hovering.

"Your boy decent?"

A choked laugh came from Flash. "So I'm your boy now?" he muttered, without any actual animosity, just bashful humor.

"Hardly ever decent," Len shot back, "but especially not at the moment, Mick. He's out of the suit."

"Well, yeah, but…it's okay," Flash said. "Mick! It's okay! I don't mind. I know I can trust you."

Mick stiffened where he was leaned back beside the doorway into the med bay. Flash trusted him? Him? What the hell for?

Not that Mick had any intention of using the kid's identity against him, not unless Len ordered it, and that was about as likely as the man wearing shorts in the summer. But still. First joint missions, then ones on the sly letting Rogues get away with loot even if some of it was for Legends use. What next? Dress the kid in black and get him to steal something for them?

Mick pivoted around the corner and walked into the room. Flash—and shit, he really was a kid—sat up in the hospital bed naked save a blanket covering his lower half, the Flash suit folded up in the corner of the room. Len must have removed him of it at some point. He had a mop of floofed brown hair, and seeing his full face, not just the bright eyes and broad smile, made him look about Jax's age, not legal enough to drink or maybe even vote.

"Shit, Len, we gotta worry about charges for you and jailbait next?"

Len rolled his eyes.

Flash frowned. "Uh come on, I'm twenty-six, not some preteen."

"Your mug says otherwise, doll," Mick couldn't resist teasing the kid a little further. He walked in the rest of the way, eyeing the machines that didn't display much of anything like a normal hospital. "No permanent damage, I figure?"

Flash brightened a little out of his pout. "Nah, I'll be fine by tomorrow. Just need sleep. Right, Gideon?"

"You are correct, Mr. Allen. Preliminary test results show that you should be at full health by tomorrow evening."

"Awesome," Flash grinned.

Allen, huh?

His smile returned in full force. "Hey, Gideon, can I ask you something?"

"Captain Hunter has approved any responses that do not directly give away future events that could cause a distortion to the timeline. You may feel free to ask anything you like."

"It's just…I met this other you that Eobard Thawne used—Reverse Flash," he said for Mick's benefit. "She didn't have the accent. It's nice!" he added quickly, like he feared offending the ship's computer as much as he would a flesh and blood person. "I just wondered why that was."

"There are several iterations of my make in the future, Mr. Allen. While I cannot go into detail, Captain Hunter chose to enable the English model in an effort to feel more at home while on missions."

Flash giggled—actually giggled. His whole 'not jailbait' routine definitely suffered after Mick heard that. "Cool."

Mick glanced at Len, who had his eyes on Flash, barely having taken them off of him during the whole exchange. Len had a certain way with eye contact. Tended not to offer it unless he was making a threat, trying to be intimidating. Or if he trusted someone. Any other time he tended to look away, be up in his head, searching for angles. With Flash he always had his focus dead center on the kid's face.

"You know that sleep you mentioned?" Len said, catching Flash's attention. "'Bout time I let you get to it. Been a long day for everyone. You heading out, Mick?"

"Planned to. Comin' with?"

"Not tonight. Some of us do require occasional beauty sleep."

Flash giggled again. But when Len made to stand up from his chair beside the bed, the kid sat up quickly and only just barely stopped himself from reaching out to grab Len's hand. "You don't hafta…go yet. I'm tired, but a little wired still. Could use some company til I get sleepy. I mean, only if I'm not boring you to tears. It's just…kinda weird being in a room all alone on this ship."

Unlike Len, Flash's face bared every emotion like an open wound. Len stood no chance saying no to how much the kid wanted him to stay. A few months back, hell a few weeks back, Len would have taken that as a sign to walk away quicker, put some distance between them or risk getting in too deep. Now he WAS in too deep, so obviously fully engulfed, because he smirked and looked back at Flash right in the eyes again.

"If you do get boring, it'll only help put me to sleep. Maybe you'll get loopy enough to give away a few Flash secrets for next time we face off."

Mick held back a snort—right. "You two have fun," he said, already forgotten by Len before he'd spoken, he was sure of it. "Get your strength back, Flash," he said as he turned for the door. "You're no fun on your back. Least not for me."

Len shot him a halfhearted scowl, but Flash laughed.

"It's Barry, actually," he said before Mick could exit fully.

Barry. Barry Allen. Kid sure was full of surprises. "Don't keep the boss up too late now, Barry."

He laughed again. Mick only called Len 'boss' with the Legends, not in Rogues company. Of course, all the walls they'd thrown up to make sure the Legends underestimated them at the start of this mess had come down after the first few weeks. Mick doubted anyone really believed anymore that he was anything but Len's equal, or that he was quite as unobservant and dim-witted as he liked to pretend.

He left the ship to the sound of Flash and Len laughing.

A few hours later, when he returned, buzzed, a little bruised from a quick and dirty fight in Saints and Sinners' parking lot, he peeked into the med bay to see Flash sound asleep, blanket pulled up to his neck. Len was asleep in the chair, leaned forward with his arms and head resting on Flash's—on Barry's—chest.

Yeah, he was a goner all right.

* * *

"I am aware we have an unexpected guest, Mr. Palmer," Rip spoke with semi-gritted teeth to Ray. "Gideon has assured me that a time jump will in no way hinder Mr. Allen's recovery given his advanced healing abilities, not by more than an extra hour at most, which he has already agreed is perfectly fine considering we have a good lead on where to face off against Savage next. This next mission could be a critical win for us if played correctly."

"As long as Barry isn't hurt," Kendra said. She and Carter stood side by side, while Rip addressed them, Ray, Mick, and Len on the bridge. Sara, Martin, and Jax had shore leave since they weren't required for this particular mission.

"What do you need of us, Hunter?" Carter asked.

"For the most part, the rest of you will be back up and running interference while Mr. Snart takes point."

"Oh goody," Len flashed his best false smile. "Something need stealing or someone need to be conned, I take it?"

"Bit of the latter, actually. A rather important woman needs to be…I believe the colloquial term is 'honey-potted'."

Len held his smile, but Mick saw the way his eyes darkened, body stiffening at the suggestion, which…wouldn't have been the case several months ago. Honey-potting was a Snart specialty, something Len and Lisa could both handle with ease, regardless of the mark. But that was then.

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same," Len said stiffly.

"Nonsense, Mr. Snart. I'm not asking you to sleep with her," Rip dismissed. "I doubt it will come to that. Though some physicality may be necessary. To be honest, if Mr. Allen wasn't laid up at the moment, I would have preferred to ask him. He's perfectly suited to the woman's tastes." He opened his mouth to continue explaining the plan as if the matter was settled, but Len cut him off.

"I said—no." That was Len's 'ask again and you'll be scraping yourself off the floor next' tone. Mick stood up a little straighter in case he needed to intervene.

Rip glowered. "Mr. Snart, this is part of the skillset I require of you and the reason you were recruited. Am I incorrect with Gideon's knowledge of you having performed such tasks numerous times in the past?"

Len's smile dropped, and Mick saw his right hand tap tense, claw-like fingers along the armrest of the chair he was sitting in. He was trapped by the question, stuck between answering honestly and admitting Rip was right, or having to explain why he didn't want to pretend to want somebody else, anybody else. He wasn't yet ready to explain the reasons why—close, but not yet.

Mick thought back to yesterday. "Call me crazy, Hunter, but thought you knew Flash and Len were screwing," he said gruffly, which caused Len to shoot him a warning glare, and Ray, Kendra, and Carter to gape, not yet in the loop. Too bad if Len didn't want the beans spilled to any of the others; damn idiot was going to let himself get roped into honey-potting just because he was stubborn. Mick couldn't allow that.

Rip sighed exhaustedly. "Mr. Snart's sexual escapades aside…"

"Your intel bad or somethin'? Not just sex, dumbass. Blindness really is a side effect of traveling in this thing."

"Mick…" Len spoke up with a threat in his voice for him now, but shit, Len hadn't been threatening to Mick in years, even when he did power up his gun and point it his direction. Sometimes the guy needed a good push.

"Wha—already?" Rip sputtered before Mick could offer another comeback or Len could try and shut the whole thing down. Everyone stared at him. Rip took a moment, looking around the ship, then at Len, and seemed to come to the conclusion that this was entirely his fault. "Should have factored this in… Well then, unfortunately that does put a damper in the plan."

"I'll do it," Mick shrugged.

Everyone—Len included—turned to him skeptically.

"Apologies, Mr. Rory, but the woman in question has rather particular tastes for men with more…effeminate attributes."

Mick couldn't resist, and steeled his expression into a glare. "You saying I'm not pretty?"

It was far too fun—and easy—to make Rip sweat.

"I could give it a try." Ray's smile, nearly as bright and blinding as Barry's, made him look like a lost collie on his most badass days. Guy was pretty though, Mick nodded his acceptance of that.

Len turned his doubtful look on the millionaire scientist. "You are aware of what this sort of thing entails, Raymond? Seduction regardless of actually liking the person or finding them attractive. Knowing you're toying with them even if they clearly like you. It's a bit…villainous for your tastes, isn't it?" Len was both making sure Ray was up for the challenge and pushing the conversation further from focusing on him and Barry. Fine by Mick. It would all come back around eventually.

Rip looked at Ray hopefully, more inclined to this compromise. Kendra and Carter both shrugged.

Ray smiled wider. "How hard can it be?"

* * *

Barry didn't even feel the time jump, turned out, other than the turbulence, which he was strapped to the hospital bed for. Time travel was in his bones.

In the end, Len wasn't needed for the mission if he wasn't honey-potting, and therefore elected to stay on the ship—not that he'd admit he was relieved to have some extra time alone with Barry. Cat was out of the bag now with the Legends—and Sara definitely knew. She and Lisa had been spending too much time together during layovers in Central for her not to know. And Martin and Jax would probably know as soon as they got back to the city, given Ray's big mouth.

Mick finished his part early, didn't feel like hanging around to watch Ray suck face with some plastic looking brunette, especially since the guy ended up NOT botching things from the start like Mick had expected. Ray had some suaveness in him, handsome guy with all that money, and a knack for overdoing it when wooing. Pulled certain ladies right in, including their mark.

Len would be disappointed. They'd made a bet with Kendra that Ray couldn't pull it off.

So while Mick remained on call in case things required some extra muscle later, he headed back to the ship. Maybe he'd bug Barry about getting Cisco to juice up his gun sometime. Genius kid always fussed over Len's. Mick's could use some add-ons, really cause some destruction.

He headed toward the med bay but paused when he heard voices coming from the bridge instead. Barry must be out of bed, growing antsy now that he was back to full health, no matter how much Len tried to fuss over him—and he did fuss. Mick turned toward the bridge, picking up on their voices more clearly as he neared the front of the ship.

"Please tell me you're watching the clock," Barry said, a little breathless. Huh. Maybe he wasn't at full health yet.

"Am I ever not?" Len answered with an equal amount of labored panting, which was…interesting.

A giggle—that giggle. No wonder Len was gaga for the kid. "It feels a little mean."

"Rip insisted after I refused—twice."

"That is pretty douchey. So…how'd you convince him not to make you do it?"

A pause—naturally, Len hadn't admitted the full story to Barry. "Can we focus on the task at hand, Scarlet," he purred huskily.

Husky, breathless, panting. Mick had a pretty good idea what they were up to long before he crested the last of the hallway and caught sight of the bridge where—

Damn. Barry had skinny legs out of that leather. In the leather too, granted. Nice hips though. Taut stomach. The muscles in his arms clenching as he gripped the backrest of Rip's captain's chair from the front, facing it, while Len pounded him from behind.

Nice.

Mick stopped to lean in the doorway a moment. He'd never harbored any attraction for his friend, but he could admit Len was damn fine looking too. Mick totally would have been up for a go back in the day, but Len didn't work that way. Sex had to be separate from relationships, from friendship, from any true affection for someone, or things risked getting dangerous.

He was long passed the danger zone with Barry Allen.

Len's mostly blue and black tattoos, with a few swatches of additional color, made the skin of his chest, arms, and back a dark contrast to Barry's pale complexion. Len's legs more powerful, despite The Flash being known for running—maybe because of that, all lean muscle while Len was broader. They balanced each other aesthetically. Balanced each other all sorts of ways.

Len didn't have to mask his expression with Barry facing away from him, so he looked—well, Mick had never seen Len look quite like this. And not only because Len was in the throes of passion.

Len leaned forward to press a kiss between Barry's sweat-slicked shoulder blades, eyes closed as he lost himself in the feel of the kid. He panted, lips parted, cheeks flush, all the lines and stiffness smoothed out from his face. Barry was much the same as their conversation died, giving way to whimpers and groans, and a steadily growing litany of "Fuck… _fuck_ …"

Barry's back arched, fingers digging in tight to the chair, head dropping back as Len's right hand slid languidly up his thigh, over his hip, then down between his legs where he cupped Barry's balls and stroked all the way up his length. He curled his fingers. Stroked Barry harder. His other hand gripping Barry's hip tight for leverage to fuck him good and hard.

"Len…" Barry moaned, eyes still closed as Len stroked him. "Fuck…I love the way your balls hit my ass when you're inside me…"

Whoa. Kid had a mouth on him apparently.

"Love when you fuck me like no one else can ever touch me."

"Damn right, no one else can touch you," Len growled, eyes opening hazily, but right on Barry, on his smooth back and long neck.

"All yours…only yours…and you're mine…"

"All mine…all yours…" Len echoed.

It was nearly enough to choke Mick up, damn idiots, saying everything but the words they meant. He gave it another minute, just in case the dopamine rush pushed one of them into a real confession. Not likely though. Mick was getting a little sick of it.

So when their breathing picked up, their pace a little harder, a little faster, and Barry whined like he was right on the edge, Len biting his lip as his brow furrowed, so close behind the kid—

Mick walked in. "Nice to see you up and about, Flash."

"Ah!" Barry yelped, snapping upright, and then streaming out a broken moan at the way it pushed Len even deeper inside him.

Len's eyes snapped wide, face blank with surprise at the harsh interruption having been so close to finishing.

Mick stood a few feet away from them, standing casually, fully unimpressed expression on his face. "Got some time til the others get back. Come find me later, Barry. Wanted to ask ya somethin'. You know…when you're done."

"Mick…" The warning would have sounded harsher, fiercer, if Len didn't mostly sound like he desperately wanted to come.

Mick made a point of eyeing Barry all the way down his tight little body, positioned so prettily on display in Len's arms, being fucked raw like that over Rip's chair, even if they were paused at the moment. Mick gave a slight nod of appreciation, watching the kid flush dark red even more than he was already flushed from arousal, and making Len scowl a bit more murderously.

Good. Some healthy jealousy might push things along. Len did like to stake his claim on things he considered his. Now he just needed to claim Barry beyond the bedroom—or wherever it was they usually had sex, coz Mick sure hadn't heard of them making it into any bedrooms.

Mick shrugged at Len, then turned on his heel to leave them be. Once he was out of visual range, he heard Barry groan in half misery, half lingering stimulation.

"Oh my god…"

"Ignore him."

"It didn't even faze him!"

"Just trying to prove a point, forget it."

"Prove what point? Coz—" Barry cut off in a string of profanity that made Mick falter in his getaway. Kid really did have a mouth. It was damn hot, lucky bastard.

Mick grinned to himself as he continued his trek to his room. Bout time Len had some luck in his life.

The last thing he heard from Len as he walked out of earshot was, "When I'm done with you, Barry, you won't even remember Mick's name."

Mick passed a few minutes alone in his bunk debating how to spend the rest of the night, since he doubted Barry would have the courage to come find him like he'd asked. After a while, he called out, "Lover boys done yet, Gideon?"

"Mr. Snart and Mr. Allen are currently getting dressed on the bridge."

"Patch me in."

The screen on his wall lit up with a shot of the bridge, showing Len already mostly dressed, and Barry pulling on a sweater Len had had Gideon whip up for him in the clothes room—deep red of course.

He heard Gideon's voice speak to the pair. "Yes, sir, I can be discreet and keep this from Captain Hunter."

"Much obliged, Gideon," Len said.

That didn't sit right with Mick. Rip deserved this little display after what he'd tried to pull. Especially when Mick saw the way Len drew Barry to him, kissing his lips slowly, letting them sigh into each other and enjoy each other's company without anything sexual still part of the equation. Had they really not gotten it through their heads yet, despite wanting to stick it to Rip?

"Gideon, you save this footage?"

"All activity aboard the ship is archived, Mr. Rory. However, Mr. Snart requested I delete tonight's bridge footage."

"Cancel that. Save the recording."

"For you, Mr. Rory?"

"Nothin' like that. Keep it stored. Next time Rip sits in his chair, tell him you got a present for him."

"Mr. Rory?"

"You know what I mean. Serve him right, pushing Len to honey-pot. One no shoulda been enough."

* * *

Rip stood from his chair with discreet slowness, wishing he could banish from his mind the images he'd just viewed, and what had gone on with his chair the previous night.

"Gideon, erase that footage please."

"Mr. Rory requested a copy be saved."

"Of course he did." Rip got the message. He realized he needed to work on his people skills, and that he had crossed a line with Snart, but was it really necessary to retaliate in quite this manner? "Fine, then send that copy to Mr. Snart's room, and ensure that it is otherwise wiped from record. Also…"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Sanitize my chair."

* * *

TBC...


	9. You look so hot when you dance

In time for Valentine's Day as requested!

Len's night goes from a date with his sister at a night club he wasn't really looking forward to, mild surprise as he enjoys himself, pleased surprise when he spots Barry at the same club, utter rapture when he gets Barry back to his apartment...and eventually terror when the elephant in the room of just how much he loves the kid finally demands attention.

* * *

Len cast a calculating gaze around the building, checking exits, clear lines of sight, concentration of people, time it would take him to cross the room from one end to the other if he needed to bolt.

"Lenny, stop casing the place like you need a getaway plan," Lisa whispered in his ear, holding onto his arm to half drag him along with her, half make sure he didn't escape, as they entered the club.

"Tell me again why you couldn't bring your boyfriend with you," Len said. Not that he minded the contact having his sister hanging on his arm, or spending time with her, but why in a dance club of all places?

"Cisco was busy tonight. Besides, I want to spend time with YOU. You can't live off of intimate evenings at home like some boring old man, pool and drinks at Saints and Sinners, and heists and heroics, Lenny. Being thrown into a throng of people occasionally without your cold gun is good for you."

"Says who…" Len grumbled.

She giggled and squeezed his arm tighter as they sidled up to the bar, causing him to lean into her. There was this constant catch in his throat when he was on the Waverider, fear that something they changed in the past would ruin the present, ruin what he had with Lisa now, after years of loving her more than anything else but not quite fitting together. They were more friends now than just siblings than they'd ever been, and he cherished that.

"Just have a few drinks and dance with your sister," Lisa said before shouting to the bartender for a couple beers.

"I am not dancing."

"Lenny…"

"Lisa. I don't dance."

"Liar, just need a few drinks in you."

It was after only one drink that she first tried tugging him out onto the dance floor. Len didn't mind claiming a couple stools at the end of the bar for drinks and catching up on their lives. That part was fine, fun, comfortable. He didn't have to ice Cisco any time soon, for example; kid was treating her good. Taking things slow. Wooing her and everything. And things with the Rogues were good when Len was away on Legends missions. He'd given up correcting Lisa whenever she mentioned his 'heroics' with the team.

And sure, the music wasn't as loathsome as some clubs; there was actual music playing, with lyrics, not mindless beats. But still. One drink was not enough to get him out there.

Lisa sighed and ordered them a couple tequila shots to further loosen him up. Even though Len didn't feel the burn immediately, he let her tug his arm after that. Eventually the alcohol would catch up to him so he could forget the nameless faces, the suffocating feeling of a crowd when he wasn't armed. He focused on Lisa, on the smile on her face as she twirled and laughed and teased him—again—about needing to let loose and stop acting like an old man.

Eventually, his body relaxed, hips loosened, stoic expression falling from his face as he danced along with his sister, enjoying himself more than he expected.

Several songs and another beer later, he felt tingly and pleasantly numb. He also felt the moment when eyes were on him.

Len kept his smile, didn't want Lisa to worry, didn't want to ruin their good time, but imperceptibly scanned the crowd. He relaxed again when he saw who it was. No attacker. No one out to get him or Lisa. Just Barry Allen, smirking around a beer at him from the bar. Apparently, he'd had the same idea tonight, because he was there with Iris West.

Len had met her on more personable terms a few times at STAR Labs, but as far as he knew, she didn't know about him and Barry having occasional extracurricular activities together. And Lisa still didn't know that the cute boy she'd seen with Cisco when they first met was The Flash. So Len held Barry's gaze and tilted his head to the left, to the far side of the club near the door, before whispering to Lisa that he needed to use the facilities.

He did actually, he had had a few drinks after all, then came out to find Barry waiting for him.

"Sibling date night, it seems."

"Iris isn't my sister," Barry countered, though he didn't lose his smile. He'd ditched—or maybe finished—his drink. Not that they did anything for him, poor kid. Which was a shame, because Len was at least mildly buzzed, enough that he was more inclined to back Barry into a corner of the club and have his wicked way with him, 'sisters' around or not.

"Real date then?" Len joked.

"Flash work," Barry said in a close whisper. "Guy meeting with a possible meta. We know the guy, not the meta, so decided we'd follow him until we spotted who he's here to see. Over there." Barry gestured toward a fairly nondescript man who wasn't being at all subtle with his nerves, or how he scanned the crowd looking for someone. "Figured Iris would be my best cover in a place like this. Plus she wanted to dance," he laughed. "We were upstairs the past hour, but followed the guy down."

A wicked idea crossed Len's mind as he scanned down Barry's body, at his tight jeans, black button down, and leather jacket. "So you've had some fun, given Miss West her due attention?"

Barry's eyes trained on Len's lips. "I suppose…"

"And this guy looks like he should meet up with the mark rather soon if he's been waiting this long."

"Hopefully."

"Whatever should we do with ourselves once you can leave, I wonder?" Len slid a hand into Barry's jacket and trailed his fingernails up the kid's side. They were back by the bathrooms after all, hardly the center of attention.

Then Barry spotted the guy he was watching head closer to the door. "He's moving. Come on." He stayed within Len's space, but slid his arm around Len's waist and backed them onto the dance floor. Then he started to swivel his hips to the music.

Not what Len had in mind. "Barry—"

"You look so hot when you dance," Barry cut him off, keeping to an intimate whisper. "Almost stole you away from Lisa as soon as I saw you."

"I don't—"

"Come on," Barry ignored his protests, using his own hands to try and move Len's hips, encouraging him to join in, and damn it, Len wasn't buzzed enough for this behavior, but Barry was too damn adorable to resist—grinning at him, biting his lip as he shimmied closer to Len still holding his hips.

Kid didn't look at all gangly like he thought he was, moving like that, whole body rocking to the beat of the music. Thigh muscles taut beneath his jeans, shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal flashes of pale skin and freckles. He looked sinful—illegal. No wonder Len wanted everything Barry offered.

Barry pivoted them so he could catch sight of the man over Len's shoulder. He shifted effortlessly between focused hero and having all of his attention on Len.

That damn grin. That lithe, tantalizing body. Len couldn't resist the kid, and fell into step with him. This was nothing like how he'd danced with Lisa. Not really touching, other than to grab her hand and spin her around. With Barry, their hands never left each other, and soon Barry was pulling their hips closer together until they were more like grinding to the driving beat.

The rest of the crowd fell away. Men and women in various pairings. No one minded them. No one cared. Lisa and Iris were on the other side of the club by the bar. For a moment, it was just them. And the music. And the brief glance of Barry's eyes beyond Len to make sure he hadn't lost the man. Even that didn't ruin the moment, because they were always at their best when they were also Flash and Cold. Always most comfortable in their skin when at least a touch of their personas bled through.

Len loved being Captain Cold…because it's what had led him here.

Several things happened at once as the song changed. Barry whispered a simple, "There," to indicate the meta had shown. Len noticed over Barry's shoulder that Lisa was looking for him but hadn't spotted him yet. Then Barry started to push them back toward the bathrooms, seeming to know what he was doing, so Len didn't protest. Especially not when the kid's tongue found its way into his mouth as soon as Len's back hit the wall.

Barry pulled out his phone. Len only noticed because he felt the shadow up by their faces, and glanced to see the phone raised pointing away from them. The flash was off but Len heard the click.

"Got her," Barry said, pulling back to check the photo, then sent it off to Cisco at STAR Labs with a message Len just barely read upside down before the phone disappeared again.

RUN IMAGE RECOGNITION. WILL TRACK LATER.

"Not planning on following the meta out of here, Barry?" Len asked with a knowing smirk.

Barry had heat in his eyes almost as if he was as buzzed as Len. He pushed Len into the wall again, stepped in close, all up against him down the full length of their bodies. "Later. Like you said…Iris and Lisa had their fun. I did my job. Think our dates will draw and quarter us if we ditch them?"

Len licked his lips as he counted the sun spots peeking through the opening in Barry's shirt. "We can text them both that we got lucky and couldn't say goodbye."

"Iris will hate that."

"So will Lisa."

They met gazes, then dropped the connection as they both stared at each other's mouths. Barry tasted like dark beer, like coffee and chocolate and that familiar buzz of electricity. He already felt hard against Len's thigh, and Len was right there with him. Tongues tangling. Bodies writhing like they had on the dance floor.

When they parted, they both pulled out their phones to shoot off messages to their 'sisters', Barry done in seconds, having flashed through it, before dragging Len behind him out of the bar while Len was still hitting SEND.

As soon as they hit the open air and ducked into an alley where no one could see them, Barry asked for an address, Len gave him one, and then they whisked across the city.

* * *

Iris gaped down at her phone. Barry did not just—

He did.

The night had been fun even if they were there as a cover for spotting this new meta. She hadn't gone dancing with Barry in ages. And after finishing the mission, he'd found someone to go home with and ditched her? Oh no. That just wasn't something Barry would do. At least not with someone random he met in a club for the fifteen minutes he'd gone to the bathroom.

Iris headed for the bar as she contemplated what might have actually happened—and her revenge, regardless of the answer—when she spotted Lisa Snart looking equally put out as she ordered a shot of whiskey.

"Make that two," Iris said.

Lisa whirled to face her, recognition making the lovely thief twist her lips into a smile as all of the pieces fell into place. Lisa didn't know to connect Iris to Barry, but she did know to connect Iris to The Flash.

"They didn't," Lisa said.

"They did."

Lisa patted the now empty stool beside her, and Iris sat. They downed their shots together, then ordered beers to wash them down.

"Didn't know you knew about their little tryst," Lisa said.

"He thinks I don't know. I'll let him keep thinking that until he musters up the courage to tell me. How long have you known?"

"Few weeks. Don't know his face yet though, or his name."

"Didn't think so. I'm afraid I can't divulge that."

"Wouldn't ask for it. Besides, Flash owes me quite the grand gesture now when I finally meet him out of the mask, stealing my brother away on our night out. I'd be more upset, but…they are terribly good for each other." She leaned over, nudging Iris's shoulder.

Iris was surprised how companionable it was to lean back. "Agreed. Never seen B—" She caught herself just in time. "Flash so happy. Can't grudge them too much, I suppose."

"Oh, we can grudge them plenty, hun."

"I didn't mean we shouldn't retaliate. How do you think we should get them back?"

Lisa raised an eyebrow as she contemplated the question. "We could crash their date since they ditched out on ours. I have an idea where Lenny probably took him."

Iris downed another pull of her beer, eyeing Lisa, but not feeling any animosity toward her, or reason to distrust the woman, despite everything she knew about her that wasn't exactly…legal-leaning. But then Barry had told her so many things about how Lisa was in on Len's double-timing heists, helping the Legends. Clearly she wasn't all bad.

"If we did that," Iris said, "you'd probably see Flash out of the mask. But I suppose that would be more their fault than ours."

"Exactly," Lisa said, raising her glass to clink against Iris's before taking a drink of her own.

"So…" Iris nodded, "we finish our drinks, head back onto the dance floor to give them an hour or so, then party crash?" They shouldn't have to give up their good time just because the boys were gone.

Lisa grinned wider. "I like the way you think, West."

"Please, call me Iris."

* * *

Len was clearly too buzzed to think straight, but it WAS the closest location to the club, since it'd been where he came from when he headed there.

He'd brought Barry back to his actual apartment. Not a safehouse—his home. This was definitely going to come back to bite him.

He hummed at that thought, because Barry was currently sucking on his neck against his not yet open door, and nipped lightly at the skin. That kind of biting was just fine.

Len managed to disentangle himself from Barry long enough to get the door open. Usually, this was when they'd end up against the door again and barely make it to a solid surface like a sofa before they lost their clothes and any remaining inhibitions. Len didn't mind that, half expected it as he got the door shut and locked it behind them, when—

"Is this your actual apartment?"

Shit. "Closest bedroom. Problem?"

He turned around to see Barry's eyes widen with awe as he took in the space. It was no wonder Barry had assumed it would be just another safe house when they first got to the building. Thirteen stories but nothing extravagant on the outside. Quite the contrary. The building was humble, older, filled mostly with elderly with rent controlled lofts and a few families. Not many bachelors.

Len had chosen it because of the low profile, but had enough money to buy a corner apartment on the 12th floor, and the apartment directly above it, which he remodeled into a single open space with high ceilings and a lofted bedroom up an open staircase. The windows, full length up two whole walls of the doubled apartment, had an amazing view of Central City—STAR Labs included.

Len crossed to his kitchen before Barry could properly respond or rope him into conversation instead of continuing where they'd left off. He'd been planning something special for a while, and at the sight of his refrigerator, he realized he finally had the opportunity. He grabbed a bowl and filled it with a handful of ice cubes.

"What's that for?" Barry peered over his shoulder, molding himself to Len's back and wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Meet me in the bedroom and you'll find out."

Barry paused to lick the rim of Len's ear, making him shiver slightly, though he'd swear it was the ice cubes if Barry asked. Then a gust of air signaled that Barry had zipped away to heed Len's order. Len headed through his apartment at a languid pace, kicking off his shoes along the way, shucking his jacket, and undoing his pants with one hand as he held the bowl of ice.

When he got up the stairs, he expected to find Barry naked and spread out on top of his navy blue bedspread, but instead the kid stood by his dresser, holding a picture frame. Len tensed. It was one of the few pictures he'd managed to save when he left his father's home. His first time ever holding Lisa, ten years old cradling his baby sister.

Not conducive material for what Len had in mind tonight. "Barry…"

"This you and Lisa? You're so cute!" Barry practically squealed.

"Want to gush over my early years, Scarlet, or find out what I'm planning with the ice?" Len kept his voice neutral, didn't want to reveal his frustration and apprehension that reared whenever Barry got excited about…knowing him better.

Barry set the frame down and turned back around with his blinding smile in full force, but it didn't take much for the expression to shift into something more mischievous. "How do you want me?"

Better. "Clothes off. On your back."

By the time Len set the ice on his dresser to pull his pants off and lifted his sweater over his head, Barry was already splayed across the bed, slowly stroking himself. Much better.

Len slipped his underwear off then snatched up the bowl again. He crawled up from the foot of the bed, Barry's legs parting to invite him in, but Len didn't touch the kid at first. He set the bowl up by the pillows, and reached into the nightstand at his left for lube and a condom that he placed by the bowl for later. He plucked an ice cube up between his fingers and brought it to Barry's lips as his other hand gripped Barry's wrist to stop him from getting too far ahead.

"Tsk, tsk, Scarlet…your hands remain at your sides from this point on unless I say otherwise," Len said gruffly, summoning the dominant presence he'd used when talking Barry through touching himself so many months ago, back before they'd gotten this far and Len could touch the kid whenever he wanted.

"Is this the first time we've ever been on a bed?" Barry asked, breaking the mood even as he obeyed and set both hands palm down on the mattress, legs crooked up to cradle Len between them. He looked too sweet, boyish and hopeful as he said it, eating up the miracles of being in Len's home, with childhood pictures, and an actual bed beneath them.

Len pushed the ice cube past Barry's lips rather than respond, inviting him to suck on it. Barry did, pulled it in with a teasing coil of his tongue, grin firmly in place around it. Damn that coy expression, gaze never faltering as Barry looked up at him, fully trusting, fully Len's.

Len leaned forward, his length sliding against Barry's propped up thigh, Barry likewise sliding against Len's hip, as Len bent for a kiss, tongue seeking out Barry's as well as the ice cube. They shared the cold sensation between them, passing the ice cube between each other's mouths as they kissed.

When Len pulled away, he left the ice cube in Barry's mouth but immediately shifted down to latch onto his left nipple, sucking and biting gently. Barry gasped at the unexpected addition of cold to the act. Len bit down firmer, sucking the nipple harshly before licking unhurriedly like a soothing balm.

"Oh…" Barry said, somewhere between a moan and recognition of what the ice was for.

"I owe you for the hot chocolate. Sound fair?"

Barry shivered as Len leaned up over him again. He nodded, still sucking on what remained of the first ice cube. Len dove back in for more, the ice already smaller, melting quickly from Barry's heat, and the added friction of their combined tongues across it when they kissed. Barry pushed the ice cube more into Len's mouth, but when they parted, it remained with Barry again.

Len tucked himself into Barry's neck this time, sucking behind his ear, down to his clavicle, and up again. He traced the rim of Barry's ear, as Barry had done to him, then over the cartilage, lightly inside with a cool breath of air added making Barry shudder.

Being knelt between Barry's legs, even if Barry wasn't allowed to touch him directly, meant their hips were all too intimately connected. Barry bucked against him.

"Ah, ah, ah…none of that either," Len whispered before sucking Barry's earlobe into his mouth. "Stay as still as you can."

Barry whined, hips stuttering as he fought to keep from moving.

"I'll get there…" Len promised.

He returned again to kiss away the ice in Barry's mouth, the last of it melting, so after Len trailed a few promising chilled licks down to Barry's navel, instead of continuing his descent, he reached for a fresh ice cube. He teased it across Barry's lips longer this time, even as Barry darted out his tongue to suck it in, move things along faster—but no, this was going to be slow torture.

Eventually, Len pushed the ice past Barry's lips again, kissed him soundly, gathering as much of the cold as he could, then ducked down between Barry's legs.

Even though Len nipped first at Barry's inner thighs, already it was enough to cause the kid's hips to buck up from the bed. Len hooked his hands into the crease of Barry's thighs to hold him down.

"So eager…"

"Le—ah!"

Len darted his cold tongue along Barry's balls, then down beneath them almost to the waiting, puckered entrance, before he trailed up, stopping when he reached the base of Barry's cock. He returned to suck on more of the ice in Barry's mouth.

"Len…please—"

"Shut up, Barry."

Len stole the ice, kissing Barry bruisingly, but still returned it to Barry's mouth before descending again. This time he licked up the underside of Barry's dick, slow, letting the coolness on his tongue linger as he transferred the feeling to the burning heat of Barry's length. He licked and licked, letting saliva build before he reached Barry's tip and sucked on the head. Barry's continued gasps were a lovely mantra to spur Len on, but oh, Len had even better plans ahead.

He took the last of the second piece of ice, melted like the first, and bobbed down on Barry deeper, faster, holding his hips in place all the while, until Barry came with a drawn out whimper.

That was one. Tonight Len thought he'd try for three.

"Wanna guess what comes next?" Len licked his lips as he slithered up the kid's body and reached for a new ice cube.

Trepidation danced across the kid's features, marring what was otherwise absolute bliss. "I can, uhh…guess, yeah."

"Concerned?"

"I don't know, I've just…I mean I don't know if I'll—"

"We've certainly done wilder things."

"I know! I just…don't know if I'll like that? The rest felt amazing, but…"

This was the first time Barry had expressed hesitation in the bedroom—maybe because they were finally in a bedroom, and not hampered by a ticking clock. Len sucked on the tip of the ice cube in his hand to draw Barry's attention to his face.

"If you don't like what I do, all you have to stay is stop. But I do think you'll like this, Barry." With the ice cube still in hand, he reached down to Barry's thigh, trailing upward, close…so close…then stopped. "You're so warm. Need to cool you down."

Barry shuddered—no, _vibrated_ this time—and gave a slow nod. Some apprehension remained, but he trusted Len. He trusted Len with so much…Len surprised himself more and more how much he never wanted to let the kid down. He certainly never would in the bedroom, not where, at times, trust was most needed.

Len brought the ice cube back up and sucked it into his mouth. He dropped down between Barry's legs again, keeping a grin in place to help calm Barry's nerves. Oh, he'd like this, of that Len was certain.

He started by revisiting where he'd began before, kissing along Barry's inner thighs, with the ice cube held in his mouth. Trailed down his balls, up his length, down again where he licked for the first time at Barry's entrance.

A moan fell from Barry's lips immediately, hips instinctively arching. Len allowed the motion this time, wanting Barry to feel comfortable, not pinned down when he had reservations about where this was going.

Len licked and teased with his tongue, holding the ice cube in his cheek, keeping the constant chill ever present. He knew what Barry expected him to do, but that wasn't quite what Len had planned. The ice would stay in Len's mouth, but…

The gasp Barry released was a beautiful, wrecked sound as Len breached the tight muscle with his tongue. He went in smooth, extra saliva and water built up from the ice, licking inside Barry and feeling him tremor all over at the penetration.

Len pulled away, rolled the ice over his tongue again. "Good?"

"Y-Yeah…" Barry batted heavy lidded eyes down at him, cheeks flush, lips parted, sweat building at his temples. Fuck, he was gorgeous.

Len plunged his tongue in again, gently stretching as he twirled it, delved in deeper, feeling Barry open up despite the cold—because of the cold. The ice cube was melting faster than before. If Len intended to get Barry off three times tonight, he needed the second to happen before he finished stretching him.

He swallowed back the remaining sliver of ice, grabbed another, only one more left after this, and returned to his careful work—slower, teasing around the entrance a while again before flicking inside.

"Give me your hand, Barry."

"H-Huh…?"

"Your hand." Len reached up, taking Barry's wrist when his right hand lifted from the mattress, quivering a little from natural adrenaline. He pulled it down and rested the tips of Barry's pointer and middle finger on his perineum. "Now…vibrate those pretty fingers for me."

Barry moaned lewdly even before he complied. When his fingers started to blur where they held in place between his balls and entrance, he moaned louder, but it was nothing compared to the cry that left him when Len tilted his head to tongue at Barry again beneath those fascinating fingers.

The close proximity of Barry's vibrations made Len's lips tingle, leaving him hard and weeping as he crouched there, yet untouched. But it didn't deter him while he licked his way inside Barry, cold and heat ever warring; more so with Barry than anyone else would be, since Barry's body was in constant flux, trying to return to equilibrium.

Between the cold, the vibrations, and the leisure stretching of Len's tongue, Barry came a second time without Len even having to touch his cock.

Len left the cum to dry on Barry's skin, eager to finish stretching him before the cold started to dissipate. He brushed Barry's hand aside, sucking on the remainder of the ice cube as he reached for the lube and condom. He coated his fingers quickly, knowing it wouldn't take much before Barry was ready for him.

Barry grunted and sighed into Len's careful twists. Len was able to start on two fingers with how stretched he was already. He scissored the kid open further, further still, feeling the remnants of cold left behind from the ice—

Len blinked and he was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He felt the quick roll of the condom up his length and swift application of lube as realization dawned on him. His fingers were still slick from being inside Barry, but now he was flipped. Kid was eager, apparently. Len stared down the length of his body just as Barry straddled him and started to sit back.

"Needed to hurry you along. Wouldn't want you to miss out on some of this chill you left behind," Barry said, voice rough and low, eyes black with lust as he guided Len to his entrance. He took him in inch by careful inch and—fuck!

The cold. The lingering sensation from the ice was incredible paired with Barry's natural heat, with Len's own heat, and the combination just…every thought in Len's brain stalled, stuttered to a stop, until both of their mouths hung open from the ecstasy of it all as Barry sat back fully on Len's hips.

It always amazed Len, the feel of Barry, the eagerness with which he took him all the way in, or likewise sunk deep inside of him. Len had never bought all that bullshit about connecting this way making someone feel filled and complete—at least not beyond the physical. But with Barry it was…so much more.

Len reached for Barry's hips as the kid started to rock, smearing the remaining lube across his left ass cheek, his fingers still cold too, and his mouth cooled by that last ice cube that had finally melted.

But no…not the last. There was one more in the bowl. Barry's eyes drifted to it amidst their slow but ever increasing rhythm. He snatched it up, rocking back harder once he had hold of it, and popped it into his mouth with a grin.

Len expected the kiss when Barry leaned down, never once halting the motion of his hips. Barry's warm mouth, the frigid ice, the hot and cold between them where they connected in so many wondrous ways, had Len on edge and overstimulated in the best way.

He'd had the perfect amount to drink at the club, that light buzz lingering, encouraging his body to last longer. On round three for Barry, the kid would take longer too. It was just as well. If they could manage it, Len wouldn't mind having Barry ride him like this for hours—powerful muscles beneath his fingertips, atop him, surrounding him.

They kissed, and rocked, sharing conflicting temperatures that seemed so perfectly balanced somehow. They didn't lose the connection of their mouths until the last bit of ice was gone. Then Barry reared up, riding Len harder, fervent and wild in the way his head dropped back, hands splayed over Len's stomach, vibrations building and rumbling through him.

"Touch yourself, Barry… wanna watch you," Len ground out, watching those hands blur so beautifully.

Barry had that coy expression when he caught Len's gaze again, taking himself in hand, allowing Len to keep his grip on Barry's hips, urging and controlling an increase in tempo. Barry's muscles tensed, rippled, different parts of him blurring and then becoming distinct again, a flush of color all throughout his body. No one else compared to this kid. No one ever could.

In a rush of emotion as their climaxes built, Len felt overwhelmed, overcome, like a combination of that ice and heat had blossomed in his chest. He wanted to share it with Barry. Wanted to tell him. Wanted to say…so many things. And he almost did, mouth opening to pour his damn soul out—

"Barry—"

When Barry kissed him, searing and deep, and whimpered against his lips as he came. Len almost didn't realize he had come too, because the entire ordeal had felt like one drawn out tumble over the edge. There was dampness in his eyes, he could feel it, feel so much, too…much, and he had to—he couldn't—

The sudden eruption of a song from their discarded clothes on the floor made Barry groan miserably from where he'd collapsed atop Len, face smushed into his shoulder. "I'm gonna murder Cisco," he grumbled against Len's skin.

Len sucked in a breath to steel his nerves, to fight back the emotion and tears in his eyes, forcing his voice to sound even as he said, "Sinatra?"

That was definitely Sinatra as Cisco's ringtone.

 _I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate,_

 _A poet, a pawn and a king_

 _I've been up and down and over and out_

 _And I know one thing_

 _Each time I find myself flat on my face,_

 _I just pick myself up and get back in the race_

 _That's life…_

Barry giggled. "He stole my phone last week and changed everyone's ringtones to Sinatra songs. Joe is 'My Way', Iris is 'Luck Be A Lady'. I better get it."

A gust of air made it easier for Len to calm himself down as Barry dashed from the bed, already with his phone at his ear.

"I'm not available right now, Cisco, this better be important."

Len dragged the condom off of his wilting cock, dropped it over the side of the bed into the bin he kept in front of the nightstand. Then he laid back, waiting for a moment when Barry's natural erratic pacing had him facing away so Len could wipe the tears from his eyes before the kid saw them.

"Okay, okay," Barry sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I know you're right. Keep her tracked. I'll be by to get the suit in a couple minutes." He hung up, turning finally as Len sat up in bed. His face looked like a defeated puppy, and Len instantly wanted to kiss him.

Instead he raised an impassive eyebrow. "Flash business?"

"It's the meta. Cisco found her in the police database. She's bad news. We have to bring her in now before she causes any trouble."

"Abilities?"

"Pyrokinesis? Don't tell Mick," he chuckled. "He might fall in love."

Len forced a like laugh, forced it because…that word, that thought…was too much on his mind. "Go. You can come back when you're done. Though if you need someone to cool her off…"

"Come back?" Barry focused on the wrong part of that sentence, as per usual, grabbing up the first thing from the floor he got his hands on, Len's underwear, and holding it up with a questioning eyebrow.

Len nodded, and Barry proceeded to wipe himself clean with it. Len could throw them in the wash later. "So forgetful, Barry? You moved when I didn't tell you, you could," Len said, meaning Barry's flashing flip and take-charge maneuver—not that Len had any complaints with how things had ended, but he had implied he was the one running the show tonight.

After speeding into his clothes, Barry stood adjusting his shirt and jacket with a crooked smirk. "Oh yeah? And how are you gonna take your revenge for that?"

"You'll find out when you get back," Len smirked in reply.

Another rush of air and Barry was at the side of the bed, leaning over Len. "Then I guess I better hurry." He kissed him, and it shouldn't have simultaneously made Len's stomach flip and his insides feel lighter, but it did—just a simple press of lips made him want to chase Barry's mouth as he pulled away. "Fast as I can," he said, and with a lingering moment holding Len in his adoring hazel gaze, a crack of lightning took him away.

Len fell back on the bed and took in a deep breath. What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

* * *

Len dropped his dirty clothes in the washer, slipped on a pair of soft, worn sleep pants and a T-shirt, and scanned his kitchen for anything that might work as a late night snack when Barry returned. Kid would probably need to eat, and Len felt a slight rumble in his stomach as well after their activities. Plus they'd need to get their strength up to make good on his promise of punishing Barry for not listening to him earlier.

He pulled out a cookie sheet, covered it in tortilla chips, then leftover shredded chicken, salsa, chives, banana peppers—which Barry preferred to jalapenos, he knew—and finally cheese. He'd add sour cream once the nachos came out of the oven.

Maybe he could distract Barry with food and sex forever, and he'd never have to explain this ache left in his chest whenever Barry wasn't with him. He wouldn't have to explain that he didn't just want Barry in his bed more often, he wanted him to stay—the night, other nights, every night. He focused on the nachos to avoid overthinking it, placing them in the oven for fifteen minutes.

Len paced around the apartment, restless, unable to focus on future plans, heists, business with the Legends or the Rogues, just fussing with various items in the living room while he waited for Barry. Like running his hand along the frame of his favorite abstract painting on the wall—unknown artist, something he'd found once, and loved because no one knew its worth next to something famous by a well-known artist. The humor in that always amused Len.

When only a couple minutes were left on the timer, he caught sight of that familiar red and yellow streak in the distance out his two-story windows. Barry would be back soon, if that was any indication.

The oven beeped. Len took the nachos out to cool, then went straight for his door, opening it and stepping out into the hallway just as Barry, back in his street clothes, flashed to a stop in front of him ready to knock.

"Hey, I—"

Len kissed him, all that nervous energy erupting out of him, like he was as young as Barry and ready for round two. He certainly wouldn't mind that, but he knew he was hiding, trying to lose himself in Barry. It was so much easier than, well, _losing himself in Barry_.

Len intended to pull Barry back into the apartment, but his steps faltered forward instead when Barry twisted his hands into his T-shirt. They tumbled further out of the apartment instead, feet moving swiftly until they hit the wall of the hallway.

"No scorch marks?" Len said against Barry's lips.

"Safely in the pipeline for questioning and rehabilitation. Cisco says hi."

Len chuckled, diving back in for another taste. Cheeky kid that he was though, Barry soon upped the stakes, sliding his hand down the front of Len's shirt and deftly into the waistband of his sleep pants. He hummed amusement at finding Len without underwear. Palmed him. Stroked him. Round two was sounding pretty good about now…

"Barry Allen, you do not have your hand down Leonard Snart's pants in the middle of a hallway!"

A great gasp sounded from both of them as they snapped apart, Barry's hand extracting itself from his pants at lightning speed. They turned at the same time to stare down the hallway to see Iris West and—

"Lisa!" Barry exclaimed, trying to hide his face behind his hand, fingers splayed.

"Oh please," Lisa said, "I was going to find out anyway, _Barry_. Barry… It's cute! I like it. Baaaarry," she said again, and only then did Len realize that Lisa, and Iris for that matter, were leaning into each other as they walked slowly down the hallway toward them, eyes glassy with huge grins on their faces. They were drunk!

"How did you not see them on your way in?" Len turned on Barry.

Barry's mouth gaped open like a fish behind his palm, which Len was sick of already and pulled Barry's hand away from his face.

"We came up the back way," Lisa said, arm around Iris's waist, Iris's arm around hers. She squinted as she looked hard at Barry's face once they were within a foot of them. "I know that adorable mug."

Barry sighed. "I was with Cisco in the bar that night. We've met. Sort of. Everybody knows my secret identity now. Thanks, Iris. Wait…Iris!" His eyes widened as he glanced between Iris and Len, who admittedly hadn't really moved away from Barry's body and still had him half pinned to the wall. "You know?"

"Oh please, Barry, pretty sure everyone knows," Iris waved a hand at him. "You two are so not as covert as you think. And serves you right having Lisa see your face. You both ditched us!"

Barry looked back at Len guiltily. Len didn't share the sentiment. Oh he knew he'd have to make this up to Lisa, and he would—painfully in many ways, he was sure—but he refused to regret the night they'd shared so far.

"Ooo, brother-sister double date in our future?" Lisa suggested.

Iris's eyes sparkled.

"No," Len and Barry said in unison.

"Brother-sister date it is," Lisa declared. "Better schedule us in, boys, we're making this happen."

"Please tell me you took a cab here," Len droned, finally pulling away from Barry, who immediately scratched at the back of his neck.

"Of course," Lisa said.

"We may have had a few too many after you left. Once we started dancing, people kept buying us shots," Iris shrugged.

"Dancing…together?" Barry questioned, eyebrows raised as he eyed them both a little too appreciatively for Len's taste. He pointedly stepped on Barry's foot. "Ow!"

"Barry, why don't we start making things up to our sisters—"

"Barry's not actually my brother."

"—by taking them home. I'm sure you can zip them off in short order. Then meet me back here."

"Good idea," Barry agreed.

"Hang on a minute, handsome," Lisa said, pulling from Iris's side, which made them both wobble a little, and sticking a perfectly manicured fingernail in the center of Barry's chest. "You're cute. And Lenny adores you."

"Lisa…"

"But if you ever hurt 'im, there'll be a life-sized golden statue of The Flash in my living room, got it?"

"Lisa!"

Barry's amused expression was too adorable for Len to maintain his annoyance with his sister. "Duly noted," he said. "Now where am I taking you?"

"Safehouse with the alley," Len said on her behalf. "She's been staying there."

"Hey, wait—" Lisa tried, but Barry gave a nod and they were gone with a crack.

Leaving Len alone with Iris…who narrowed her eyes at him. Fantastic.

"Miss West…"

"I'm not mad about being ditched. Not…too mad."

"Much appreciated. I imagine you'll use discretion when it comes to your father about this?"

"Maybe."

Despite her unsteady state and glazed over eyes, she still managed to carry a very intimidating presence. Much like Len's own sister. "I'll have you know, I've had several shovel talks already—"

"I'm not going to give you a shovel talk, Snart."

Len eyed her more critically, ready to reach out and catch her should she stumble, which seemed likely any moment. "Okay."

"You don't need a shovel talk. Not worth wasting my time over."

Len's heart sank. He wished such simple words couldn't do that to him, but it stung anyway. "Naturally," he said.

She shook her head. "You don't get it. See I know the truth, Snart. About how Barry feels. About you. You don't need a shovel talk because—"

Another crack of lightning and she was gone. Len felt nauseated as he slowly shuffled back into his apartment, leaving the door open, but contemplated more than once simply closing it behind him. In twenty-eight seconds Barry was back, closing the door for him.

"Sorry about that. Wow. At least they'll both likely have hangovers in the morning. And don't worry, I would have told Lisa eventually. Really wished she hadn't met me like this, but we have a double date to worry about in our future, so that's—"

"Barry, look, maybe—"

"Did you make nachos? Oh my god, I love you!"

Len froze mid turn to face Barry and stared. He knew his face went blank, body tensing as Barry's eyes widened at the realization of what he'd just said.

"Shit, uhh…I mean…I didn't…"

Mean it, Len supplied. Of course he didn't mean it. He didn't love Len, never could. That's what Iris had been about to tell him. This kid was meant for grander things than some old thief.

Barry scratched the back of his neck, that familiar, nervous tick, only to grip tight, eyes clenched closed before they opened staring down at the floor between them instead of into Len's eyes. He wouldn't look at him now. It was all only a matter of time before more pieces of this chipped away. Len was such an idiot for imagining things could have ended differently.

He tried to back away, tried to head off what was coming, say anything to prevent the words on Barry's tongue. "Barry—"

"That isn't how I wanted to tell you, please don't freak out."

"…what?"

Barry's pleading hazel eyes finally glanced up, downturned brows drawing his mouth into a similar frown. "I know you're freaking out, okay? I mean I just said I love you over nachos—which smell amazing, by the way, I can't believe you made me food knowing I'd be hungry when I came back, because I really am, actually and—"

" _Barry_."

"Right, uhh…" Barry gestured outward toward Len with the hand that had been gripping his neck. "So maybe I've wanted to say that to you for a long time now? But every time it seemed like the right moment, it was also not. Like, if it was during sex, I figure you'd think I was just caught up in the moment. If it was while we were fighting, that I was just trying to distract you. If we were working together, it _would_ be a distraction and a bad idea. And the in between times haven't been too many, not alone, at least, and after a while it just kept stretching out like too much time had passed to say it, like I'd missed my window or something, and I just…"

He took a breath. He had to because Len was fairly certain he hadn't breathed through that entire speech.

"I know I'm probably screwing this up forever by saying the one thing we never have, we've never even talked about what this is, what it means, what we want from it, but…it's not just about the sex for me, Len. Or the fun of being at odds. Or being on the same team sometimes either. It's those not too many in between moments too. It's the way you…made me nachos," he laughed, gesturing back at the kitchen. "And check up on me sometimes when you think I don't know you're there. I know what the drop ship of the Waverider sounds like, Len, even if it can go invisible. It's the way you're just…you. The criminal. The liar. The hero," he smiled wistfully. "And just a really remarkable man, at the center of it all.

"So yeah, I…love you. And shit, I know it's probably just me, I am so going to stop talking now…" He ducked his head down again, blush filling his cheeks, tension in his body as he feared all the things Len had been fearing. Rejection. Miscommunication. Somehow not living up to what the other person wanted of him.

And it was in that moment that Len realized, as much as he honestly never wanted to let Barry down…one day he would.

Len could feel the tears stinging his eyes again. He wanted to kiss Barry, to ease his concerns, but he couldn't. He turned away, speaking as quietly as he could, "It's not just you, Barry…"

"What?"

"…but this is complicated."

Barry flashed up behind him with a burst of air. "Is it though? Hear me out." He tugged on Len's shoulder, trying to get him to turn.

"Barry…"

"Please, Len."

Len wanted to resist, but he couldn't, couldn't prevent the kid from turning him around, from seeing the raw emotion on his face that no one—no one ever saw.

The way Barry smiled at him with watery eyes of his own twisted Len's insides enough to steal his breath. "We can make this work. We already do. Sometimes we fight. Sometimes you even get a good shot in. But even if you still rob people, you don't hurt them anymore. Not good people. Not innocent people. You're helping to save the world! You're more than who you were when we first met—no, not more, just…you've finally started to see what was always there, what I've always known was in you.

"We can do this. I could be happy doing things just as we have been forever—nemeses, partners…friends. We could be together in the open finally and never have to hide again. It's not like we've done that good of a job hiding it anyway," he giggled.

But that was different, Len wanted to say. Just sex, even with an enemy, that didn't matter. That could be accepted, overlooked. But more than that…Barry's friends and family wouldn't accept it. Not really. Not if it was real. Queen may have given his stilted blessing, but that wouldn't last, none of it would, not if it was out in the open.

Len had never been able to live out in the open. Not with his sexuality when he was young and his father sneered at him and cursed him with every slur he could think of. Not with his lacking education, that no amount of personal improvement and study, being the smartest damn person in the room most times, could overcome. Not with his chosen profession, always living in the shadows.

He didn't get to live in the light. He didn't get to have what Barry was so certain they could make work.

Barry squeezed his shoulder, and tried, tried to pull him closer into his body.

Len shrugged his hand away. "You should go."

"What…?" Barry's eyes filled with ready tears as his face fell to startled panic. He surged forward to grab both of Len's shoulders faster than Len could back away. "Please don't say that. You don't mean that. You said…you said I'm not alone, that I'm not the only one," god Len hated how Barry's first slip was that he didn't want to be alone, "so please…please don't say that. Don't make me go. Don't shut me out, Len. I love you." He lifted his right hand to Len's cheek, tears slipping free down his face, expression tortured, pleading.

Len couldn't breathe. Couldn't move away. But he couldn't, couldn't give in either.

Barry took Len's silent inaction for his chance, steeled his expression, sniffed back his tears, and held Len's face more firmly as he stepped closer. "The only way I'm walking out that door…is if you look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel the same way." He looked terrified as soon as he finished the words, terrified Len would take up the challenge and do just that.

And Len almost did, wanted to so badly, knew it would be easier in the long run, but… "I can't," choked out of him instead.

Barry's renewed smile was blinding, more tears sliding free as he laughed and gasped out a shuddery breath. "Then let me stay. Let me convince you that this can be good. That we can be so, so good together. And if things get screwed up along the way, we'll deal with it. Almost everyone we know has our backs with this, you know," he laughed again, helplessly, as his tears continued to fall. "Jay and Caitlin, Hartley, Cisco, Lisa and Iris now…"

Iris…

"Even Mick," Barry pushed on, gripping Len tighter, no doubt in the wake of seeing that fresh doubt cross his features. "Even Oliver, Len. But that doesn't matter to me. None of them could know, none of them could approve or tease us or help push us together the way they have, and I'd still want this. I'd still want you no matter what anyone else thought. Please…"

Len tried to settle his heartbeat and relax into what was so obviously out of his control, as Barry drew him closer, and closer, until finally he lifted his other hand to Len's face, holding him between his palms, and kissed him. He tasted wet and salty from his tears but still so right. So right. Even with only the barest press of their lips. Even if Iris wasn't as supportive as Barry might think.

That's really what had made Len hesitate, seeing his own reservations reflected back at him. But maybe…maybe that didn't have to mean they were doomed. Maybe Len could be selfish. Maybe he could have this, even if obstacles were bound to arise. Barry was so certain, so willing to try. And since when did Leonard Snart ever shy away from claiming something he wanted?

"So…I can stay?" Barry asked softly when he pulled out of their kiss.

"Y-Yeah…you can stay," Len gasped, hating that his own cheeks were damp now, but he didn't think Barry thought any differently, any less of him to see them.

"I totally would have sicked Oliver on you if you made me leave, you know," Barry chuckled, wiping furiously at his eyes once he released Len's face.

Len rubbed at his tears too, less prominent than Barry's, but still there. "Lisa would be more dangerous, trust me."

Again that laugh, that beautiful laugh. Barry didn't seem to mind that Len hadn't followed up any of that confession with an answering 'I love you'. It seemed the moment had passed to say it, to not feel like a fool as he formed the words.

"Nachos?"

Len huffed, almost choking on his laughter, as his emotions settled back to normal. He was suddenly starving. "Sour cream first," he said, and bypassed Barry to the kitchen.

They sat on the sofa in the living room with the nachos on the coffee table, Len eating about a third, maybe not even quite that, as Barry devoured the rest. They talked. Well, mostly Barry talked, about the meta and his adventure with her while he was gone. How now they really did use the pipeline as intended, just a detour for a few days like a holding cell before they ether released the metas or turned them over to the taskforce, taking a chance to help some of them instead of locking them away.

So much had changed since that fateful night at Ferris Air. For both of them. Len had no regrets—never did—not even over this disaster of a night that had started out so wonderfully and ended in ways he never expected.

As Barry reached for the last grouping of nachos on the tray, his phone burst out with "That's Life" again.

"Does Cisco actually HAVE a life?" Len joked. "When my sister isn't around, I mean."

Barry laughed, answering the call quickly. "Did Volcana burn down the labs already?"

Len could hear Cisco faintly since he was seated so close to Barry. "Dude, not funny. And you're lucky the answer is no. I just got some really weird text from Lisa."

Uh oh.

"Something like… _baby-face Flash can have Lenny, but I'm keeping West._ Do I want to know?"

"No," Barry and Len said together.

"Whoa, okay then… But while you're there, Cold!" Cisco called louder, so that Barry had to hold the phone away from his ear. "No more foreplay in the suit! I'm onto you!"

Len took the phone from Barry, said, "No promises," and clicked the END CALL button. "For the record, Barry, THAT is more the music I'd dance to. That club crap is more like torture. I only gave in because I was buzzed and you were in these ridiculous skinny jeans." He ran one hand up Barry's thigh while depositing Barry's phone on the coffee table with the other.

"You mean Sinatra? Really?" Barry snatched the phone up again.

"What are you—?"

In moments "That's Life" started playing again, not mid-song like it did when Cisco called, but from the beginning.

"Oh no…" Len shook his head, pressing himself back into the cushions.

Barry was too fast for him though—always was—already seizing his wrist and tugging him to his feet. "Oh yes. Dance with me, Lenny!"

" _Barry_ ," Len tried to growl, really did try to, but the damn kid looked so adoring, and adorable, and inviting when he pulled Len into his body a few feet away from the sofa, one hand up along his shoulder, the other taking his hand, letting Len lead. "I don't—"

"Just shut up and dance with me, Len."

Len sighed. He did love this song. He loved…a great many things. He did not love dancing. But with Barry…

With Barry…

Len accepted Barry's hand, slid his other arm around Barry's waist. He figured Barry expected him not to actually know how to do this. Len knew how. Knew several more old fashioned styles of dance. Came in handy, not that he often used those skills, not in recent years anyway. So he kept to a slow, half-timed two-step, just holding Barry close but still keeping perfect pace as he led the kid across his open floorplan.

Barry laughed in warm amazement. "You liar. You dance just fine, Captain Cold."

"Never said I couldn't, kid. Just that I don't."

"Guess we'll have to change that."

 _That's life (that's life), I tell you, I can't deny it,_

 _I thought of quitting, baby_

 _But my heart just ain't gonna buy it_

 _'And if I didn't think it was worth one single try,_

 _I'd jump right on a big bird and then I'd fly_

Len pulled Barry in closer as the song wound down, forgoing form so he could hold Barry with both arms around his waist, Barry's arms encircling his neck. They rested their heads on each other's shoulders and settled into a slow sway.

 _That's life…_

The music, the closeness, what they'd shared earlier in the bedroom—finally in a bedroom—and what they shared just as remarkably by sitting on Len's sofa and talking over nachos, made everything—made anything—seem possible.

"Barry," Len whispered over the final lyrics, "I love you."

They stopped. The song stopped, leaving them in silence. Len felt like a raw nerve, bared open for the first time. But when Barry raised his head, there was nothing but joy, nothing but love staring back at Len in return.

* * *

It was days later when Len caught up with Iris at STAR Labs. Or rather, she caught up with him.

"Snart! Hey. We still need to plan that brother-sister double date, don't think Lisa and I didn't mean it. But umm…sorry for the drunken interruption. Not quite how that was supposed to go." She smiled warmly at him.

Len stared at her, a little on guard. "Thought you didn't approve, Miss West."

"What? Why would you think that?" She frowned at him, genuinely confused.

Maybe she'd had so much to drink that night, she didn't remember clearly. "You started to tell me something before Barry took you home. That you didn't need to waste a shovel talk on me."

"Well…I don't." Iris raised both eyebrows, twisted smirk in place as she said, "Because…you obviously love Barry too much to ever hurt him. Just seeing how happy you've made him all these months proved that enough for me." She reached out to squeeze his arm supportively, patted it once with her dazzling smile in place, then headed off.

Len stood there a moment, stunned, relieved, as the last traces of doubt flaked off from his armor. He still had Joe West to contend with some day, but for now…he felt like anything was possible, as long as he had Barry.

He still wasn't sure at what point Cisco got a hold of his phone while he was at STAR Labs that day—if he was that good at pickpocketing, he and Len needed to have a private chat soon—but the next time Barry called Len's phone, Sinatra crooned at him.

 _You make me feel so young_

 _You make me feel as though Spring has sprung_

 _And every time I see you grin…_

* * *

TBC...


	10. I thought we'd try something new

Joe wasn't needed on the case Barry had been called into for a briefing by the Captain, but he did want to pick Barry's brain about something once he was released. He checked his watch, figuring the meeting had to be over in a couple of minutes, and wandered over to the room, lights off as Singh covered several items of importance on a projector. The door was slightly ajar, which Joe found odd. Someone must have snuck in late.

It made it easier for him to nudge the door open further though, peeking inside to scour the room for Barry. Of course he'd chosen the table at the far back, away from everyone else. There wasn't even anyone in the other far back table to the right, so Joe was surprised to see that some beat cop in uniform, even with his hat on, was sitting next to Barry and—

Had his hand in Barry's lap.

What the—?!

Barry was squirming, the officer's hand moving swift but subtle beneath the table where no one could see but Joe. What was his son thinking, fooling around on the job? And who was this cop? Joe couldn't place him from behind, only slightly making out buzzed short hair beneath the hat. At least it wasn't Joe's partner this time that one of his kids had taken a shine to.

But then who was this guy, and how long had Barry been seeing him? Barry knew better than to hide a guy from him; Joe had made it plain to his kids when they were in college that he'd support them bringing home anyone—other than a cop. Maybe that was it, though Joe had given up that caveat with Eddie, and thought Barry and Iris both knew that. Joe would have to tell Barry, when he teased him later about getting off during one of the Captain's briefings. He couldn't help grinning to himself at Barry's audacity. Kids.

Joe saw the moment when the officer's hand retreated into his pocket, then stepped away and leaned back against the wall to wait for the meeting to end. But a minute later the door opened fully and out stepped the very man Joe had been curious about. He kept his head down, moving at a quick pace straight for the exit. He didn't notice Joe, but Joe saw him—his profile was unmistakable.

Leonard Snart. Captain Cold had just given his son a hand job in the precinct.

Joe gaped after Snart, unable to do anything but stand there until the man was well out of sight. How the hell was Joe supposed to confront Barry about this?

* * *

Joe decided not to bring up what he'd seen at the precinct, hoping it was a one-time thing, something Barry just needed to get out of his system, and then it wouldn't be an issue. The few times Barry had pined after a guy it was always the same type—suave, precise, manipulative. Bad news. Maybe Barry had gotten talked into a difficult situation because of Snart's good looks and smooth voice, seduced by a little danger. Surely, it wouldn't amount to anything the next time Barry needed to put the guy away.

But then Joe found himself at the top of one of the tallest buildings in the city. They'd had reports of a cat burglar breaking into offices and high-rises at twenty plus stories—like something out of a tall tale from Gotham. Nothing worth troubling The Flash over, but still a problem. They had a few leads that had pointed them toward specific buildings as possible next targets, so Joe was staked out keeping watch for the thief.

He grinned when he first spotted Barry on a neighboring building through his binoculars, leaning against a stone gargoyle watching the mayhem of Central City below him. Joe thought about calling Barry on the comms, or maybe trying to get his attention with a wave. Until Leonard Snart showed up on the opposite rooftop and the two started talking.

Casual. Familiar. Barry didn't even get down off his perch. Snart put down his cold gun. Seemed to say he was playing nice. But then the mood shifted and Barry started to unzip his suit.

Joe pulled down the binoculars. No way. Absolutely no way. Without the binoculars, he couldn't see any specifics—thank god—but he could still SEE what was going on. Knew the moment the Flash suit was removed, revealing pale skin instead of head-to-toe red. Barry…giving Snart a show.

Joe turned away. Even if he couldn't see clearly, it was more than enough. That Barry would even… What was he thinking?

A flash of lightning finally alerted Joe when it was safe to look again. He lifted the binoculars. There they were, Barry and Snart, conversing like it was no big deal what had just occurred between them. Barry let Snart walk away, as if he hadn't just performed a public sex act for a wanted criminal.

This was so much more than something in Barry's system. Joe had to figure out how to confront his son about this before it went any further.

* * *

Joe couldn't do it. He kept telling himself it was a fluke. A passing fancy. That once Snart actually committed another crime and Barry faced off against him, the allure of this whole illicit affair of theirs would wear off.

Then Barry was called to a heist. Called to stop Captain Cold. He radioed back in that he'd succeeded, heist foiled, but he'd lost track of Snart during the getaway and was going to try and tail him. He'd check in later if he found anything.

Joe heard everything up to that point, tuned in from his car's CB, something Cisco had setup for him. He couldn't listen in once Barry cut the connection, but he was out in the field, nowhere near the crime scene…when he was suddenly passed by a familiar red and yellow streak.

If Barry was tracking Snart, why the hell would he be down this part of town?

Joe had an ill feeling in his stomach, and decided to follow the lightning trail as best he could. Turned out he got lucky, because it was only a few blocks in the direction he'd seen Barry run that he found them.

Parked in his car, with just the right angle to see his way into the alley, Joe saw Barry pin Snart against a wall. His first thought was that Snart HAD made it this far from the crime scene even in so short a time, and Barry had simply caught him. But when Barry started frisking Snart, it wasn't for his gun.

Joe had to get out of there, couldn't drive away fast enough once Snart's pants came down. He checked in along his way home with Cisco to have him call if Barry reported bringing Snart in. But the call never came. Barry had Snart, red-handed, but had decided to fool around with him again instead of turning him over to the police.

Joe threw his car keys across the living room when he got home, so hard that they smacked with a metallic clang and jingled loudly as they hit the floor.

"Dad? You okay?"

"Iris?" Joe looked up as Iris came out of the kitchen, holding a pile of mail.

"I stopped by to pick up those letters that hadn't forwarded, maybe check and make sure you and Barry are actually keeping the fridge and pantry stocked with more than junk food—a test you failed by the way. What's going on?" She set the mail down as she approached Joe, patented concerned baby girl look on her face.

There was no way Joe could spill this secret of Barry's to Iris, furious as it made him, but he needed to get it off his chest somehow. He figured a few half-truths might do the trick.

"Barry's keeping something from me."

"Oh? How do you know?"

"Because I've caught him…doing something he wouldn't want me to know about. He doesn't know I've seen him, and he's definitely not offering up any information about it."

"What's he been doing?"

Joe gave her his 'not my place to say' expression.

"Fine," she conceded, hands held up in resignation. "But if it's something that makes you this upset, are you really surprised he's keeping it from you?"

Joe sighed, feeling a little of his blood pressure drop back down from where it had spiked. "I'm not just upset he's keeping secrets, Iris. He's being an idiot."

"So nothing new then," she smiled.

Joe had to fight off a smile of his own. It wasn't funny. It wasn't something he could calm down over. Fooling around with Snart was dangerous. Snart was dangerous.

"Dad, come on. After everything that's happened, all the secrecy around Barry being The Flash, you know he'll talk to you when the time is right. Can you give me any hints to better help you with this?"

Joe cringed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Okay," she raised an eyebrow at him, "but then have a little faith in Barry. I mean, how big is this? Is he in any immediate danger?"

"Not…technically. But it could head there fast."

"Is it bigger than him being The Flash, or just something you disapprove of?"

Both, Joe wanted to say, but he knew that was a stretch. If he chalked it up to being about Barry's sex life, it all seemed too silly to get so upset over. But Leonard Snart—why did it have to be him?

"Just afraid he's gonna get in too deep with something he shouldn't and get himself hurt."

Iris smiled at him even as she was shaking her head. "Give him time, Dad. If it's something important, he'll come clean with you eventually. If he doesn't, and it gets more serious, or more dangerous, whatever this is, then talk to me again and we can stage an intervention if we have to. If it gets to that, you have to promise me you'll fill me in on what this is about."

Joe had to smile in reply. His little girl sure was sharp—obstinate as all hell, but smart as a whip. "I promise. Now if you're gonna stop by just to pick up mail and lecture me about my grocery habits, you better be willing to take your old man out for a bite to eat."

Iris laughed. "Deal. But no Big Belly Burger."

* * *

Amazingly enough, after that the problem seemed to handle itself. Snart dropped off the map for a bit, then the whole mess with his father and sister happened, and he went to jail for his father's murder. If ever there was something to put a damper on…whatever Barry and Snart had been playing at, this was it. Joe didn't even mind that Barry wanted to see Snart in prison once he was locked away. Probably needed to say his piece, say his goodbyes to the whole thing. And good riddance. Joe never even needed to talk to Barry about it.

But then Snart was broken out. Snart was in Joe's home. And Barry's insistence that he really was a good person, that he might have turned out so differently if only he'd had someone like Joe to raise him instead of someone like Lewis, carried a whole new resonance.

Barry's belief was so heartfelt. If Snart could love his sister that much, he couldn't be all bad. If he could mourn over thinking Lewis had killed Barry when he shot him, it had to mean something, didn't it?

Barry had been so insistent, so certain, Joe couldn't bring himself to contradict him. Barry wasn't tempted by the dark side when he was with Snart. He honestly believed there was something good in Snart worth pursuing.

Maybe he was right about that, maybe he wasn't. Didn't matter. Snart didn't help Mardon and Jesse, gave Barry a head's up instead and made scarce. Joe could at least give the guy some credit for that, but he still thought good riddance that the tryst was over.

Until they called Snart into STAR Labs one day for help, and Joe saw him and Barry leave a supply closet together, with Barry's shirt on backwards.

Joe didn't let them see him. Noticed later that Jay and Caitlin seemed to share a knowing smirk. And damn it, Barry seemed so light and happy afterward, and Snart was there to help Team Flash for once instead of hinder.

So Joe let it go. Another quick romp after being apart for so long didn't mean this was turning into something serious. Barry just wanted to see some good in Snart. Joe couldn't grudge him that.

* * *

"So when did you and Cold start sucking each other's dicks?"

Joe stuttered to a stop before entering the cortex. He'd driven in just as Snart was driving away on his motorcycle, not too sad to see that he'd missed the former—though hardly reformed—thief. What he didn't expect to walk in on with Snart not in the building was further evidence of Barry's dirty little secret that obviously wasn't going away any time soon.

He flattened himself to the wall of the corridor as he listened in, waiting for Barry to stop choking on whatever he'd just sprayed all over the floor when Cisco said that.

"How do you—"

"I may have caught some of the show in the elevator."

"What?!"

"Okay, I caught all of it! I'm sorry! I got here right as you two…started in, and was so scarred for life, I didn't know how to interrupt and tell you to please stop making nasty in the elevator."

Barry groaned miserably. Joe wished he could groan too—he had not needed to hear that.

"What the hell, man? How long has this been going on? And who all knows? And why didn't you tell me?"

Joe took small solace in not being the only one Barry hadn't confided in. He was surprised to learn that the incident at the precinct had actually been the start of things with Snart. Not too many people knew about them, and the reason Barry wasn't sharing was because it was just sex.

"Just really, really awesome sex."

"Dude."

A pause, like Barry was giving Cisco some sort of telling look, which eventually led to Cisco sighing dramatically.

"It's not just sex," Cisco said.

"It's not just sex," Barry admitted. "But it's not NOT just sex? It's complicated. I mean it's Snart, he doesn't…he's really… We haven't talked about this pretty much at all. He wouldn't be interested in more."

"But you like him. And not just because of frequent orgasms."

"Frequent, awesome orgasms."

Cisco snorted.

Joe cringed.

"Yeah, I could tell from the show you gave me," Cisco said.

"How much did you watch?"

"It was like a train wreck, okay? I am aware I am the worst friend in history, just please try and remember the reasons you love me when you think back on this momentary weakness."

"Of you watching me have sex?" Somehow Barry sounded amused rather than offended. Joe was pretty sure he'd never had a friend he could be as close and open with as these two were.

"And when were you going to tell me you can vibrate like that?" Cisco jumped to accusatory.

"Oh my god, we are not talking about this! Besides, you know I can vibrate."

"Not in sexy situations!"

"So you want a play by play of everything I can use my powers for during sex?"

Cisco paused. "Would it be possible to have that conversation scientifically without it getting weird?"

"No."

"Yeah, you're probably right. But how else am I supposed to know if something like that could have practical application in a fight?"

"Pretty sure vibrating individual parts of my body wouldn't be useful in…well actually…"

Okay, Joe definitely needed to stop them, because they jumped into a full on geek out over how Barry could use his vibrations offensively in more situations, which normally wouldn't have bothered him—Barry's powers were a fascinating mystery. But now all he could think about was Barry using those same powers recreationally. On Snart.

He steeled himself, shook off his feelings of discomfort, and waited for a good moment to make his presence known. Part of Joe still felt the urge to confront Barry about all of this, especially since he'd finally admitted it was more than just sex, at least for him, if not for Snart.

Eventually, Joe thought. He would talk to Barry about this eventually. And if things actually kept escalating, surely Barry would confess everything to him first. Wouldn't he?

* * *

Joe was doing dishes when Barry came in. "So that's what happened to the last Santa mug," he said, as Barry placed the festive mug on the counter to be added to the dirty dishes. "I was finally getting ready to put everything away for the season. Can't let go of Christmas this year?"

Barry grinned boyishly, apparently embarrassed, since his cheeks flushed. "Oh, I just…really like those mugs, you know. Need help drying?"

"Please."

Barry rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a towel to dry and put dishes away while Joe washed. There wasn't much, just the few older or more delicate dishes that couldn't safely go in the washer, like the Santa mug. Barry dried at normal speed, since Joe couldn't speed up to match him if he went any faster.

It was nice. The sort of simple domestic companionship that Joe knew he'd miss someday when Barry moved out. He resigned himself to enjoy these moment as much as he could while they lasted.

"Hey, you seen the reindeer one?" Joe asked. "Couldn't find it when I gathered up the others."

Barry nearly dropped the large platter he'd been drying. "Uhh…no idea, Joe, sorry."

That was a blatant lie. Joe knew when Barry was lying. Kid never had been very good at it. "Barry…" but before Joe could think of how to press the issue, he turned and watched as Barry reached up to the tallest part of the cupboard where the platter was stored, hitching up his shirt slightly in the process. A red mark caught Joe's attention in the dip of Barry's right hip bone. Not a bruise, more like…

A hickey. On Barry's HIP. Which, given how quickly Barry healed, had to have been made within the last half hour.

"Yeah, Joe?" Barry asked when Joe didn't continue his question.

Joe blinked at Barry, who was trying to look innocent back at him as he picked up another dish to dry. Joe had a sneaky suspicion he knew exactly what had become of the reindeer mug, and he wanted absolutely no details about how it had come to change residences, or what Barry had done while he was there.

He decided he didn't want to know anything at the moment. "Nothin, Barr. Just keep drying."

* * *

A sort of bland acquiescence took over after that. Joe wasn't happy that his son was fooling around with Leonard Snart, but nothing bad ever came of it. Snart seemed to play for their side more and more, proving Barry's assurances that there was good in him, and Barry seemed honestly…happier.

If it was just sex, it was none of Joe's business, so long as Snart never took advantage of the situation or hurt Barry. If it was more, well…then Barry would tell him. And maybe, maybe the world wouldn't implode from hero and villain—anti-hero at best—finding dark corners to steal private moments in.

Keeping out of something important in his kids' lives was not an easy task for Joe West, however. So when he overheard a deep voice in Barry's bedroom one night, he stopped to listen, tensing at the thought of it actually being Snart.

But no, that wasn't Snart's voice.

"And despite the armor Snart tries to wear, when it comes to you…he's actually pretty easy to read."

That was Oliver Queen, talking ABOUT Snart. Now even the Green Arrow knew who Barry was sleeping with?

Joe listened in to the advice Oliver gave Barry, the insight, having also visited Snart that night, after catching the pair engaging in yet another public romp—honestly, how old was Snart that he was being as foolhardy as…well, a kid like Barry, having sex all over the city. Joe refused to be jealous…

But Oliver was implying that Barry…loved Snart. That Snart felt the same way. Part of Joe had seen this coming, or the whole affair would have crumbled a long time ago, but was Barry really in love? With Captain Cold?! The strange thing was, Joe couldn't even find it in him to be upset about it, because he'd had too much time to consider every consequence and why this could turn out badly, and none of that had come to pass. Snart wasn't a good element, but he wasn't the bad element Joe had assumed of him for so long either. Once again, Joe had been proven wrong, just like he'd been wrong about the Arrow.

And now the Arrow was convincing Barry to take a risk with Snart, without sugar coating anything. Supportive but still cautious. The way Joe wished he could be…if Barry actually told him about all this.

Joe got a little too lost in thought once Oliver left, contemplating how he could possibly bring this up to Barry after so long—

When Barry bolted out of his room, grinning goofily at his cell phone. "Joe!" He clutched the phone to his chest as if to hide it. "Uh…yeah? Did you need something?"

That smile. That unabashed bliss. Joe knew it only too well. But his all-in, heart on his sleeve son was still working on admitting the truth to himself. Joe could give him more time to be ready to talk to him about it.

"Just hittin' the hay, Barr. You have a good night."

"Thanks! Yeah." He really did look so happy, clinging to his cell phone and whatever message Snart had sent him. "You too."

* * *

Joe's patience started to wear out when Barry went off on a mission with that time traveling crew Snart was part of, and even though his smile was just as large and love struck when he returned, he didn't say a word.

"Anything you want to tell me, Barry?"

"Uhh…no?"

Joe raised an expectant eyebrow, but Barry just looked at him blankly.

* * *

Joe walked into the labs just as Barry zipped past him with a hasty, "Sorry, Joe, gotta run, new meta in the pipeline, Cisco can explain," as one giant ramble. Then he was gone.

"Where's he off to?" Joe asked Cisco, who had a screen up showing the new meta in lockdown, some fiery looking redhead—whoa, definitely fiery, Joe thought, as she hurled something like lava at the glass.

"Oh…uhh…" Cisco had that deer in headlights look when he glanced at Joe.

Joe sighed. "Hot date he doesn't want me to know about?"

"No?"

Cisco was a good friend.

Joe walked over casually to lean against the desk the young engineer was seated at. "For the record, and you don't hafta tell me anything, Cisco, I know you're loyal to Barry's interests here, but…am I the only person left he hasn't told about this mystery person he's been seeing, coz I know he's been seeing someone."

Cisco deflated but offered a hesitant, "I don't think Iris knows yet."

Joe highly doubted that, though maybe Barry hadn't expressly discussed it with her either, which made him feel marginally better.

He decided to ignore the issue for now, much to Cisco's relief, and chatted instead about the new meta and plans for getting her ready for transfer to Iron Heights, as well as a few other things Joe needed to discuss with Cisco about the taskforce before calling it a night.

It was maybe half an hour later when Cisco's phone beeped. "Uhh…about that earlier topic? Iris definitely knows. I better…" He gestured animatedly between himself, Joe, and his phone.

"Call Barry," Joe conceded, standing and moving to leave the cortex so Cisco could warn Barry privately, or whatever was going on. "Be nice if my son trusted me with this sorta thing."

Cisco pulled a pained face. "I'm sure he'll tell you eventually, Joe, it's just…a little messy right now. Good though! I think. I mean, it IS good, I swear, even I think they're kinda ridiculously adorable together. It's not…it's not as bad as you might think."

Joe decided to play it off like he didn't know who they were talking about. "I'll take your word for it, Cisco." Besides, he'd already started to agree with those sentiments a long time ago. He just wanted Barry to share that with him himself.

* * *

Barry never came home that night. Sent Joe a text saying he was staying at the labs to watch over Volcana, which Joe knew to be a barefaced lie. He was with Snart. First time that had ever happened—Barry spending the whole night with him—unless their time on the Waverider counted, which Joe suspected it didn't.

Something had obviously shifted between them. This was no longer speculation on a relationship. It was serious. Dead serious. Now Barry HAD to tell Joe.

But a few days went by, and still nothing. The final straw was when Joe caught Barry's smile brightening exponentially when his phone erupted with, "I've Got You Under My Skin."

"Who'd Cisco program that one for?" Joe asked, already confident in his guess as Barry fumbled to answer.

Barry definitely heard him, but played ignorant with a stuttered, "Uh…what, Joe? Sorry, I gotta take this. Hey!" he answered the call, blinding smile further lighting up his face as he hurried up the precinct stairs to his lab.

Joe didn't have to follow Barry to know he was talking to Snart, but he did anyway. Hung back at the door, listening in on Barry's hushed plans for the night. Plans he shouldn't be making in the precinct, if Joe could eavesdrop this easily.

"Oliver said no more date nights disguised as heists. They are too date nights and you know it!" Barry laughed. "Wait, really? That's actually a great idea. Okay, okay, I'm in. Gonna give me any hints?"

Joe peered around the corner as Barry laughed again. That smile was as adoring as ever. It was love all right, head over heels, everyone could see it, and everyone approved. Joe had seen the changes in Snart over the many months, as well as the changes—good changes—in Barry.

He understood why Barry hadn't told him, why he was the last to know—as far as Barry was aware anyway. Barry assumed there was no way that Joe could ever approve of his son dating a criminal. And the truth was, if Barry had told him about all of this in the beginning, Joe likely would have reacted just as Barry feared he would.

But this was a different world they lived in now. A complicated world of meta humans, and magic, and too many shades of grey. If Leonard Snart was what made Barry happy, then…that was good enough for Joe.

He had hoped he'd proven to Barry how much he had also grown and changed over the months. Hoped Barry would see that he could be supportive about this. Hoped Barry might have a little faith in him to understand.

So really, it was Barry's own fault that Joe had to get him back for still keeping this a secret from him.

He ducked down the stairs as Barry signed off on his call to Snart, hurrying to his desk to finish filing a few last minute cases for the day. Tonight, Joe had to be focused and at his best…if he was going to tail The Flash.

* * *

Following the fastest man alive was not an easy feat. Even if Joe had still been in his prime, he would have struggled. Thankfully, he was a very good detective, so tracking Barry didn't have to mean keeping up with him.

Barry told the team he was doing light patrolling that night and didn't require backup, which Joe had long since learned meant he planned to meet up with Snart at some point and didn't want anyone listening in. The others all clearly recognized that as well. Which meant Joe couldn't use any of Team Flash as a resource. He had to do things the old fashioned way.

He'd already overheard enough details from Barry's call that he knew where to start, at least the general neighborhood. And if it was a masked heist of some sort, then there weren't many options for places that had something worth stealing. One in particular stood out.

The largest diamond currently in North America was on display as part of a promotion to bring people in for engagement rings at one of the higher end jewelers in town. Joe had seen the ads all week, thinking the place foolish for tempting a city with so many famous criminals. Figured Snart would have to go for that prize before anybody else.

Once Joe narrowed down the locale, the rest was easy. He arrived early to stake the place out. Saw Snart show up and enter, no vehicle in sight, probably assuming he had a ride out of there once Barry arrived. Joe waited at the ready just in case the thief actually took off with the prize, but no, he never came out. He was waiting for Barry.

Soon enough, The Flash's lightning trail lit up the night. Joe saw Barry head in through the back of the jewelry store after Snart. Knowing his time was limited with the way these two spent their nights these days, Joe quickly jogged over and in through the same back door Barry had left open. He picked up on their voices immediately.

"You're late."

"You didn't specify a timeframe. Plus the only hint you gave me was the neighborhood and that it was something shiny."

"If I give you too many hints, Scarlet, you'll grow complacent. What good would you be to me then?" It was remarkable how affectionate Snart could sound while teasing Barry. "Still found your way here."

"But where's the diamond?"

"Like I told you, if I didn't steal it first, I know of several low level scumbags who've been talking up hitting this place soon. I'm doing the owners a favor."

"Then where did you put it?

"Now why would I tell you that?"

They shared a laugh and Joe heard the distinct sound of one of them getting knocked into a wall with a soft thud.

"Maybe I'll turn it over to you later, if you play nice," Snart said. "Wanted to see if you'd actually get here in time to stop me. You failed that part of the night's festivities I'm afraid."

"Yeah? How ya gonna punish me for it?" Barry purred.

"Get away from him, Snart!" Joe burst out of the back room of the jewelry store aiming his gun, to the sight of Snart's back as he pinned Barry to the wall beside the front counter.

Snart's head snapped up, but he didn't move from blocking Joe's view of Barry, though Joe definitely heard a sharp gasp from his son upon hearing his voice.

"I don't know how you got him pinned like that, you son of a bitch, but you better turn around and back away right now." Joe approached slowly, face hard and voice edged with anger as he stalked cautiously forward. He had the safety on, of course, but they didn't know that.

"I don't think you want me to do that, Detective," Snart's calm voice called back, as he slowly raised both hands into the air.

"And why not?"

"Because your son currently has his hand down my pants."

"Len!" Barry hissed.

"Jig's up, Barry," Snart said in a mildly bored tone that Joe knew to be more of a front than Snart would ever want him to know. "You gonna keep this from him forever?"

Finally, Snart backed away, turning to face Joe so that he and Barry stood side by side. Barry's cowl was back, his suit unzipped halfway, while Snart's pants were clearly undone though thankfully not down yet. Snart's face was a cold mask as he kept his hands raised, but Barry looked stricken, like he thought he needed to reach for the skies too.

Joe kept his gun pointed at Snart as he addressed Barry. "What did he do to you? Some meta trick? Mind control?"

"No, Joe…" Barry shook his head miserably, all the guilt of having kept this from Joe splayed across his features, which Joe took a moment to feel justified in. Barry zipped his suit back up, but Snart pointedly kept his pants undone, even after he lowered his hands in sync with Joe lowering his weapon.

"Then what the hell, Barry?" Joe barked. "You caught him stealing something, and you're rewarding him now with…just what is this?"

"It's not like that, Joe." Barry took a step away from the wall. "He's gonna give it back."

Snart looked like he was trying very valiantly not to roll his eyes.

"Give it back?" Joe stood tall as he let his disapproval radiate off of him. "He give back everything else he steal? He suddenly absolved of his crimes, and okay to do more, so long as he saves the day occasionally? I'm all for you having faith in the guy, Barry, wanting him to be better, hell I've seen he CAN be better. But this? You don't think he's using you?"

Joe darted his eyes to Snart, wondering what it would take for the man to defend this relationship. Because if he didn't step up to defend it…maybe he didn't deserve Barry. Joe's boy deserved someone who would fight tooth and nail to keep him in their life.

Barry being willing to defend Snart, that Joe expected. Barry would readily defend anyone he believed in, especially someone he loved, but that needed to go both ways.

"He's not using me," Barry stepped forward, fury and indignation plain on his face. "That isn't what this is. We've been seeing each other for months now, Joe, I just didn't know how to tell you—"

"Seeing each other?" Joe scoffed.

"Sleeping together in the beginning, but that's not all this is. Never was just that. We—"

"You really think he looks at you as more than something he can use to his advantage?" Joe pushed harder, glaring at Snart as distastefully as he could. "Like he's not biding his time with angles? Like you're more to him than just some rent boy he can—"

"Hey." There it was. A low growl. A clear challenge as Snart took a menacing step forward to shield Barry behind him. "You don't get to say that. You don't get to imply he's nothing but a piece of ass to me."

"Right," Joe sneered back. "Obviously, he's also an in with everyone who might run up against you, and lets you get away with whatever you want."

"He doesn't let me get away with anything. That's the point." Snart's voice almost rose, almost wavered, but he kept himself controlled as he faced Joe down, while Barry looked on with a bewildered expression of pride.

"He challenges me," Snart continued. "And not just with the foreplay you caught us at, Detective. I don't want Barry because of what he can do for me, I want him because of what he makes me." How much he was saying seemed to catch up with him at that, but he didn't let it spook him into stopping. "Not as good of a man as he thinks I am, fine, but better than I thought I could be. The only score I care about now is him. And it isn't just _fucking_ , though I won't pretend I don't enjoy that part," he added with a challenging smirk, which quickly faltered as he finished, "it's about never wanting to let him down."

"Len?" Barry prompted softly, questioning these words that apparently hadn't been spoken openly between them before.

Snart looked sideways and down rather than directly at Barry beside him. Maybe in part to keep Joe in his sights; maybe to not have to look Barry in the eye as he said, "Even though I will. Let you down. Someday I will. Someday you might even hate me for it, Barry. But I'll still try. I'm still trying. So, West, you can shove your disapproval right up your ass," he rounded back on Joe. "We don't need your blessing."

Barry beamed beside Snart, and Joe could admit, a part of him cheered internally too. He'd hoped for this, for Barry. Had almost been certain this was what he'd encounter, given everything he knew, but he had to be sure. He had to see it for himself, and let them prove it to each other at the same time.

Barry stepped forward and slid his gloved hand into Snart's, the pair of them standing together in solidarity.

Joe couldn't keep his composure after that. "Nope," he said with a grin. "You don't need my blessing. But you can have it if it helps any."

"What?" Barry blinked at him.

Snart's gape was positively comical.

"I'd apologize for all that," Joe said, posture relaxing finally as he put away his gun and chuckled, "but you two been running round behind my back since that day in the precinct. You think I didn't see you there, Officer Snart?" he raised his eyebrows at the man pointedly. "Think I haven't seen way more than my fair share, including some of that rooftop nonsense?"

Now Barry's expression went comical, eyes practically bugging out of his head. Good.

"Everyone knows, Barr. Either from walking in on you two, or you actually owning up to them, but I get nothing? Known this whole time, just waiting for you to fess up and talk to me about it, but all you expected was this show I put on."

"Show?" Snart spat.

"I'll admit," Joe shrugged, "I mighta said some of that for real all those months ago if I'd spoken to you then. Know better now. Just had to be sure of one thing—that you'd fight for this if pressed and not back down. And you did. Guess you really are trying, Snart." Joe wasn't sure if his supportive father expression would work on someone nearly the same age as he was, but he offered it to Snart anyway.

Barry gave way to something like hysterical giggling as he clung to Snart's arm with both hands, needing a lifeline stronger than just clasped fingers. It was his laughter that finally brought Snart down from his tension, eased him out of his confrontational stance that had wanted to remain after Joe broke character. Soon enough, there was an ease to the man that Joe had only ever seen when he was in Barry's presence.

"Now can ya stop foolin' around all over the city?" Joe scolded. "If I ever catch another eyeful of somethin' I don't wanna see, I reserve the right to take all of this back."

Barry laughed again as he turned his face into Snart's shoulder to hide his blush. "The whole time? You knew the whole time? I can't believe you never said anything!"

Snart turned in toward Barry, chin nudging his head with gentle affection. Just a natural supportive motion that spoke so much about their comfort level, their ease with each other.

"Least someone in this family's good at keeping secrets," Joe shook his head, still smiling when Snart's eyes centered on him with strained relief and amazement. "Now I'll make scarce this time, but I mean it about all this dangerous fooling around all over the city nonsense. Behave yourself, Barry. Snart, don't give me any reasons to pull my gun on you and mean it. And both of you better come over for dinner tomorrow night."

That made Barry's head snap up. "For real?"

Joe had long since resigned himself to all of this once he realized Snart was in his son's life for good. As long as it kept being FOR GOOD, Joe couldn't see it as all that disastrous in the end. He nodded and made sure Snart was paying attention as he said, "You serious about Barry, you don't get out of family dinner. Got it?"

Snart huffed a laugh, his smile a little more genuine as he nodded.

Joe offered a wave before turning on his heel to head back out the way he'd come in, half wanting to pull Barry in for a hug, since he could see how much his overly physically affectionate son wanted to glomp him, but later. Besides, the pair was still a little too disheveled for Joe's liking to want to get in between them.

"Hey, West!" Snart called before Joe could get too far away. Joe turned back to see the thief—sometimes thief—grin wider. "My sister invited too?"

* * *

Barry still couldn't believe how well family dinner night went. Henry had even been in town to join them, something Barry had been dead set against meaning a meet-and-greet between fathers and boyfriend, until Joe's stunt at the jewelry store. But if Joe could be accepting of Len, Barry didn't doubt Henry would be too.

And he was. As welcoming as he was with anyone.

Lisa and Iris got along far too well. Barry also mildly worried over Len's interest in Wally's knowledge of cars and engineering. If he wasn't careful, his adopted brother might get recruited into the Rogues as a getaway driver.

There was something special about being able to invite Len over and not worry about Joe showing up and catching them. Joe supported them. Liked Len, even. Well enough, anyway. It made Barry want to have Len over more often, just so they could snuggle on the couch and watch Netflix like normal people once in a while. They couldn't save the world and face off as nemeses every night.

Another more intimate family dinner was planned, just Barry, Len, Iris, and Joe this time. Barry had the day off. Len didn't have other day plans. They'd decided to spend the afternoon leading up to dinner being wonderfully lazy together. Of course, since they still had a couple of hours before Iris and Joe came home, Barry liked the idea of being a little more...productive for a while.

"I know that look," Len said, arms wrapped around Barry as they finished another episode of Daredevil, which Len agreed was damn good writing, but said he still preferred his own superhero in red.

"I've always wanted to successfully have sex on this couch," Barry confessed with a teasing lilt.

"Successfully?"

"There have been a few botched attempts, yes."

"Well at least you admit you have a problem."

Barry smacked his chest lightly.

"What did you have in mind?" Len asked.

Barry untangled himself from Len's hold, sitting up fully on the sofa as Daredevil went back to the resting Netflix screen. "Wait one second," he said, which he meant literally, of course, slowing when he got back down the stairs after gathering certain supplies from his bedroom, so he could call out to Len and get him to look as he approached. "I thought we'd try something new."

"Oh?" Len said, peering over the back of the sofa at him, eyebrow raised as he took in the towel draped over Barry's arm, lube and condom in one hand, and a butt plug and large blue dildo in the other.

"I want you to ride me," Barry said as he prowled slowly closer, "while at the same time using this," he held up the dildo, "to fuck me."

Len's face went beautifully blank as he no doubt pictured the various ways that could work.

"Get undressed," Barry said. "You're getting stretched first."

Len visibly shivered, giving Barry that primal stare he always used when Barry was forceful with him. "Yes, sir."

They'd already closed the curtains for Netflix. Barry turned off the TV, set what they needed on the coffee table, spread the towel out over the sofa as Len got undressed, then pulled his own clothing off as he watched Len drop down onto the cushions again, arm thrown over the back of the couch, one leg propped up, so very much on display.

Barry crawled onto the sofa and planted himself between Len's legs to kiss him and touch every bare inch of skin he could reach. Tattoos and scars. The faintly raised skin of goosebumps. He let one hand hold Len's neck, kissing him deep, then bit lightly at his lower lip, as his other hand drifted down between their bodies and found Len's hardness. He stroked him, slowly, gently, his own erection siding along Len's thigh.

Len wrapped his arms around Barry's back to hold him closer, neck arching, with sharp panted breaths falling from his lips when Barry nipped at his Adam's apple.

"Lie back," Barry whispered.

Len shifted until his head was on the sofa cushions, legs spread and crooked up as Barry shimmied down between them. Barry licked Len's balls and languidly up his length, bobbed down on him once, twice, wanting to make sure Len was fully hard, then set to work on stretching him.

"How you envisioning this, kid?" Len asked, before sighing at the first press of Barry's well-lubed finger inside of him.

"I got it worked out. You'll just have to do as I tell you."

"Oh yeah?"

Barry twisted his finger deep inside Len, seeking out the sweet spot. He knew he found it when Len whimpered—nothing beat that sound. "You complaining?"

"Never," Len panted.

He was so easy to open up, relaxed and always so trusting of Barry. A second finger soon scissored inside, then a third to prep Len better for what came next. Barry reached for the plug.

"Gotta keep you open while you stretch me, don't we?"

Len bit his lip and spread his legs wider. They hadn't experimented much with toys, and only on Barry up 'til now, but the flush to Len's face showed his eagerness. Barry lubed up the plug, then fit it into place snugly. Len's hips gave an involuntary rock forward like he wished Barry was fucking him already.

"Soon," Barry said softly, climbing up Len's body to kiss him again—quick but deep, a smooth dart of their tongues tangling. Slowly, Barry started to turn them.

Len understood, shifted with him until they had swapped positions. He grunted at how the movement jostled the plug, making him bite his lip again and thrust against Barry, letting the slick heat of their cocks collide and slide past each other a few agonizingly sinful times. Len groaned as he pulled away, maintaining that remarkable self-control Barry was always so in awe of.

"Like the plug?" Barry asked with a coy smirk.

Len's hips kept up a subtle rocking motion that Barry knew was to feel the plug more acutely, as he clenched around it. "Gonna like fucking you with that monstrosity more," Len said, indicating the dildo.

It wasn't a monstrosity, at least not to Barry, since it looked about the same size as Len. It didn't remind him of his boyfriend only because of the color. But Len seemed to take it in stride how well-endowed he was.

Len's hands, his fingers, were like an artist's tools—so expressive when he spoke, so laser focused in every gesture. But the way they worked Barry open was the true testament to their skillset. Len tended to choke back most of his moans, not get too noisy, but Barry never held back. When Len's fingers stretched him, he let every curl and twist of those perfect digits inside of him rip vowels and curses from his lips.

Once Len had two fingers fervently rotating to strike Barry's prostate with every thrust, Barry started to lose his filter. "Fuck yeah, open me up, Lenny…I wanna bury myself inside you while you fuck me…make both of us scream til the neighbors come knocking."

"You keep it up with that mouth, they just might," Len chuckled, then chuckled again when Barry moaned at him spreading his lips around the head of his cock and bobbing down deep, deeper, and lifting back off with a pop. He slid his fingers out of Barry and reached for the dildo. "You gonna give me those orders, Scarlet?"

Barry's brain took a moment to reboot. "Y-Yeah…" He rocked his hips back to give Len better access. "Start fucking me with it first."

Even with liberal amounts of lube, the first stretch came with a slight burn, less pliant and forgiving than Len's actual cock. But Barry was so ready for this, and once the head was in, the heat of the initial stretch felt so good, he drew out a long "fffffffuck" in celebration.

Len let him relax around the size of the dildo before pressing in deeper, and when he did it was slow, tortuous teasing.

"You gonna take it all, Barry?" Len breathed huskily, already three-fourths of the way inside.

Barry forced his heavy-lidded eyes to open and focus on Len's flushed, smirking face. "You know I can."

Len pulled the dildo almost all of the way out, but when he slid it back in, he didn't stop until it was buried to the hilt. Barry choked out a broken moan. His hand shook as he reached to grip Len's arm, tugging insistently.

"Now…take out the plug and climb on. Got something better for you," he grinned.

Len rolled his eyes, entirely out of fondness. He reached back and grunted when he pulled the plug free, sighing in equal relief and disappointment, but the heat in his eyes as he set the plug aside said more than enough about how much he wanted to be filled with Barry instead. He crawled forward onto Barry's hips, rolled the condom down his length, and lubed him up generously. Legs straddling Barry and giving him the most tantalizing view, Len finally lifted his hips and sat back slowly, stretching open but so tight around Barry as he descended.

Barry brought trembling hands to Len's waist. The instant combination of sensations nearly shorted out his brain with the first press inside. The heat of Len, the fullness of the dildo in Barry, the sight of Len's stomach muscles clenching, hands braced on Barry's chest, arms straining, lips parted, plump and red from biting them. A vibrating shudder ran through Barry before Len had even finished seating himself.

Len moaned in the aftermath of it, pressing the rest of the way down almost too fast, too hard, making both of them moan louder. Barry reveled in the rare times he got Len to be really, really loud.

"Now…reach back for the dildo…and start to move," Barry said, holding Len's hips still so he could help rock him up and down if needed, and feel the ripple of Len's leg muscles as they moved.

Len's hand was steady as he reached back to grasp the end of the dildo, which without a helping hand had started to slip out. He pushed it back in, slowly, pulled it out more than halfway, then pushed it in again. Once he found a workable rhythm, his hips started to move.

"Ohfuckshitohmygodyesssss," Barry half mumbled, half moaned at the strange, wonderful sensation of fucking Len while being fucked. He had not thought this through. He was a quivering useless mass, barely able to move as Len did all the heavy lifting. Barry couldn't rock his hips up easily with Len sitting on them. Could barely do more than grip Len's hips and urge him to keep moving.

"Barry…" Len gasped, trying to lean forward for a kiss before realizing he couldn't do that and hang on to the dildo at the same time, so he just said, "vibrate."

It was more like giving over to his powers than telling them to turn on. Barry just had to let himself go, and every inch of him started to blur. Len actually cried out. Barry started to pant heavily, because with the dildo in him, it felt like THAT was vibrating, and LEN was vibrating, and everything around them was tingling and sparking and—

"Whoa!" Barry tried to reel himself back in when he saw the first static discharge of yellow.

"No," Len rode him harder, pumping the dildo faster in synced motion, "do that again."

"But my lightning—"

" _With_ the lightning."

Oh. Oh wow.

Barry didn't have words, so he didn't try to say any. Instead he vibrated, blurred, and sparked like a thrumming, living machine. Every hair on Len's body, his arms most visibly, rose to attention as the jolts of electricity danced from Barry's skin to Len, like each little shock wanted to kiss Len's tattoos and worship his scars.

Barry had vibrated plenty, but never sparked like this, never communed so closely with the speed force while doing anything but running. And with Len riding him with such wanton abandon, head dropped back, eyes closed, mouth open wide as he moaned, and moaned; with the dildo pumping into Barry deeper, faster; with Len somehow caught up in it all with him, caught up in the speed force with him, Barry—

Came. Blindingly. All the sparks and vibrations increasing for one split second before they stopped altogether and he and Len both very nearly screamed. Barry felt limp and dazed as his body settled, but Len hadn't come yet, kept rocking atop him, arms shaking as he released the dildo and brought both palms to press against Barry's chest and anchor him.

"Barry…" Len panted, eyes blown black and hooded with lust, "touch me."

Barry gripped Len immediately, pumping his cock swift and firm, while focusing fresh vibrations into his hold. With a short cry, Len came in Barry's hand, his arms giving way as he collapsed forward onto Barry's chest. They shuddered together in the aftermath, their labored breaths surrounding them for a solid minute before either could move or speak.

"Brilliant idea, Scarlet…have to do that again sometime."

"Hell yes we will."

Len chuckled.

Barry moaned anew when Len carefully extracted the dildo. The towel was handy for cleanup, along with keeping the sofa clean, and once Barry had caught his breath, he made quick work putting everything away at Flash speed, leaving the toys in the upstairs bathroom sink where he washed them and left them to dry. He returned to find Len still naked and sprawled out over the sofa, which was just fine with Barry. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, and snuggled against his boyfriend.

"More Daredevil?"

Len looked closer to falling asleep, but he nodded with a lazy smile and drooping eyes.

Barry was just reaching for the remote…when the front door opened.

* * *

Joe tossed his keys onto the table by the door and was several steps into the living room before he caught sight of the pair on the couch, who both looked back at him with varied levels of startled.

Barry was on top of Snart, a blanket just barely covering them, but not enough of their upper halves for him to have any delusions about their current state of dress and what had been going on.

"Technically it's not what it looks like," Barry said, "anymore."

Joe glowered. "Please tell me you at least got your drawers on."

Barry and Snart looked at each other, pointedly avoiding looking back at him.

"Then something better be between your bare asses and my sofa!"

"I put a towel down!" Barry defended.

Joe threw up his hands because somehow that made it worse. "I don't wanna know. I really don't. Serves me right for coming home early apparently. I'm gonna take a shower." He turned to head up the stairs, tearing his eyes away from the sight of his son snuggled up naked with his boyfriend right out in the open. "By the time I get back, I expect you two decent and making dinner for my troubles."

"Yes, sir, Detective," Snart droned back.

"Sorry, Joe!" Barry called.

"Yeah, you better be," Joe grumbled. But he was smiling as he ascended the stairs, couldn't help it. He was still miffed about the sofa—on the damn sofa, did they have to?—but he couldn't bring himself to be all that upset when he saw on a daily basis how happy Snart made Barry.

Everyone deserved to have someone they could be annoyingly adorable and irresponsible with, though preferably not in Joe's living room next time. Barry really needed to find his own place.

Snart might not have been Joe's first choice for Barry, but he'd never seen anyone make the kid that happy in all the years he'd raised him. That alone deserved Joe's blessing, and kept the smile on his face as he shook his head at their antics.

The smile dropped a minute later when he went to take a shower and found Barry's sex toys in the sink.

* * *

TBC...


	11. Did you think I was gonna play nice?

This one is for AngelOfDarkness512, who requested some Earth-2 madness. Thank you!

* * *

Barry straightened his bowtie and smoothed back his freshly combed hear in preparation for Lenny to pick him up from work in a few minutes. He'd decided to work late at Picture News on a story about the return of Jay Garrick. Now it was dark, the newsroom entirely empty for curfew.

Normally, it would be dangerous for Barry to be out and about on the streets so late, but there was a wind of change on the horizon with The Flash back, he just knew it. And, after all, it wasn't as if Mayor Snart would have him arrested, or as if Iris wouldn't let him slide by the law a little. It helped that _Detective_ West was practically his sister, and that he was dating the mayor's brother, a man sometimes known as one of Central City's other heroes—Citizen Cold.

As a reporter, Barry was often in the line of fire, something he realized he took for granted when he had a badass detective for a best friend, and a superhero boyfriend. Some people were afraid of meta humans. With Zoom being in control of most of them, it was understandable, but Barry knew that having powers didn't make someone evil, that only came from choice.

Lenny had been affected almost identically to what happened to Killer Frost, but he hadn't been hit as hard as she was when the Particle Accelerator blew. He didn't drain people of their heat on contact; he only had the outward blasts and the ability to lower the temperature in a room. Maybe that had something to do with why Killer Frost was so mean.

Barry glanced one more time at the reflection of himself in his computer monitor. He and Lenny were going to have a late dinner and a rare night in. Lenny had promised him he'd stay home rather than patrol for Zoom's meta humans tonight. The Flash seemed to have a plan in place after all; no use getting in the way of that. And if Barry was being a little selfish wanting to keep his boyfriend out of harm's way, well, he was allowed. Lenny risked his life all the time for other people. Sometimes Barry just wanted to have his hero all to himself.

A few more minutes now… Barry tapped his fingers on his desk. He was finished writing for the night. He could close down his computer, gather his things, and wait by the door. It wouldn't seem too over-eager. He and Lenny had grown far past caring about making fools of themselves for each other—well, mostly Barry had been the one doing that anyway. They practically lived together now. Iris kept teasing him about where the ring was, which only served to make Barry blush so red that he thought steam would rise from his skin.

Though if Lenny ever did offer a ring…

A clattering noise from the back of the newsroom made Barry jump. "Lenny?" he said in a whisper that no one, Lenny included, would be able to hear. He paused, heart in his throat, as he waited for the familiar voice of his boyfriend to call out to him.

And then he heard it—but not calling for him.

Barry's shoulders relaxed as he clearly picked up on Lenny's voice. But he was on the other side of the building, talking to someone else. Maybe he'd gotten a call as he arrived. Yeah…that made sense.

Barry gathered his messenger bag and clicked off the lamp by his desk, leaving the room in even more darkness than it had been in before. He stood slowly, moving step by step toward the wall that separated the news area from the entertainment section.

"That's not the point," Lenny's voice ground out in anger. "We were supposed to do this together. We planned to take Zoom down together. Then you not only left without me, you stole my cold gun!"

Cold…gun? What was Lenny talking about?

"Because you've never, oh, I don't know…gallivanted through time without consulting me?!" another voice answered, one Barry didn't recognize—or at least, he didn't think he did. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but he couldn't place it.

"We are not having this discussion right now," Lenny seethed—he rarely seethed; he was really angry right now. Barry inched closer to the wall, aware that Lenny and whoever he was arguing with were just on the other side, apparently unaware that he was there.

"Sure," the other man huffed, "when you want to yell at me for going behind your back, it's fair game, but I'm not allowed to bring up when you do the exact same thing to me?"

"You know about the Legends. You've been on the damn ship with me!"

"Not in months, Len. Months. But you keep going out on missions. I only know about them if I hear from Ray. Or Sara. Or Mick!"

Mick? He was in on this? Lisa's head of security? What did he have to do with anything? And who was Sara?

"You don't always need to know where I am. And I don't always have the opportunity to fill you in when Rip picks us up."

"But you always have to know where I am? Tell me the truth, Len. You don't want me to know, because you don't want me in the line of fire. You don't want me taking another shot for you like I did the last time I was on the WaveRider. Well that's exactly how I feel! I didn't want you in the line of fire with Zoom. He lives to torment people through their loved ones. You think I wanted to see you caught in his grasp, to see him use you against me?"

"We planned for this—"

"And I was an idiot, okay, I know!" the other man yelled, cutting Lenny off.

Len. Why did he keep calling him Len? No one called him that. It was always Leonard. With Lisa and Barry two of the very few who got to call him Lenny. The people who worked at the shelter with him called him Mr. Snart, since he was the boss, who ran the home for abused partners and children. It made Mayor Snart look better, having a brother devoted to that kind of cause, but that wasn't why Lenny did it. He honestly cared. When he risked his life as Citizen Cold, he wore a mask to protect the people in his life from being a target. Very few people even know Lenny was a meta.

Who was this person who apparently knew Lenny as much as Barry did? Who knew he had tried to face off against Zoom? Who called Lenny a loved one with such conviction?

Barry pressed his palm to the wall as he stood there listening, his other hand braced on the lamp at the edge of his editor's desk as a knot formed in his gut because…Lenny didn't talk this openly, this emotionally with anyone. Only with him.

"I was wrong, Len. I know that. Trying to use your gun on my own was a disaster, and if you hadn't followed me…" A shaky breath, then the sound of Lenny sighing, of rustling clothing…like they'd embraced.

"So we're both terrible at letting each other make our own decisions about when we stick our necks out," Lenny said, his voice muffled, pressed against fabric or…skin. "I'll try to be better, but then you have to be too. We got lucky this time. The plan worked. Zoom's gone now, finally. Harry and Jesse can have their lives back. Jay can have his city back. And we can go home."

Home…?

What had Barry missed all this time, that he didn't know Lenny at all? Had he just been some fling, and this man, this man was the one he loved and had a home with?

"I'm sorry, Len," the other man said, voice choked and tear-stained, muffled like Lenny's. "I was scared, and I just…" a miserable sniffle and gasp for breath, "I'm sorry."

Silence. For a long time. No sobbing, just breaths and stuttered words. Barry wanted to peek around the corner, wanted to see this man with his Lenny so badly, to understand what he was missing, what he'd obviously missed for a long time. He couldn't even care that Zoom had apparently been defeated—for good this time.

He let his hand drop from the wall and wondered how quickly he could turn and escape the building without Lenny noticing. If only he was swifter on his feet, and not such a klutz.

The wet sound of mouths meeting, of tongues and bodies connecting, made him feel like he might throw up. How could Lenny? Right here in Picture News, where he was supposed to come to pick Barry up and have a night home with him—not with some stranger.

"Len," the other man gasped—and wow, that made the voice sound especially familiar. Barry had to know this person, had to have met him before. Someone from the shelter? From Lisa's staff? Maybe from the CCPD? Barry tried to focus on that, on the unknown identity, so he wouldn't have to think about the sounds the man started to make as Lenny kissed him in places other than his lips.

"We're gonna go home, kid…and we're gonna work through this," Lenny said, causing a pang in Barry's chest at another mention of 'home', "but you need to promise me that you will never do this again. Don't take the choice away from me. Don't risk me losing you without the chance to say goodbye…"

Another gasp from the stranger that Barry must know, he had to know this man, but he still couldn't place the voice. Then a whimper. Then the sound of items toppling off a desk. Lenny did always like to seal the end of a fight with a connection of skin.

God…Barry really was going to lose his lunch now. He wavered on his feet, trying to will himself to back away.

"Promise me…"

"Len, I…I want to, but…you have to promise me, too."

"I do. I will. Quid pro quo, kid. We do this, then we do it together. No more sneaking around behind each other's backs."

Just sneaking around behind Barry's. Lenny usually called Barry 'kid'.

He had to get out of there. But damn it, he had to know who it was. Had to know who had captured his Lenny's heart in such a powerful way that Barry hadn't even known he'd lost him.

"Okay, Len…I promise. We…" another gasp, "…we should get back."

"They can wait for us."

"But Zoom…we…"

"We won the day. Let them worry for a few minutes. We got this whole building to ourselves, and you owe me. Just lucky us that we found it unlocked and empty."

Now Barry was angry. Did Lenny not even remember he was supposed to pick him up? He clutched the edge of the wall again, gripped the lamp tighter, all fury and resentment and determination, even if there were tears on his cheeks. He steeled himself, gripped the wall harder, and peered around the edge…

His stomach plummeted. They were even on Eddie's desk. As editor of the entertainment section, Eddie's desk was in the center with his team positioned around him. He loved entertainment, because it meant he could personally oversee any articles about the very popular local singer Joe West…and get closer to Iris. Barry didn't mind that one of his closest friends at work was in love with his best friend from childhood.

His father and Joe had been close when Iris and Barry were younger, after Henry tried so hard to save Joe's wife when her heart failed. There was nothing Henry could do, but how hard he'd tried, and how much he had been there for Joe and Iris when Francine died, solidified their friendship, and paved the way for Barry and Iris to be friends too. Barry couldn't imagine anyone better suited for Iris than Eddie…assuming he could get around how protective Joe was.

Now there Lenny was, with some other man lifted up on Eddie's desk, kissing his neck and unzipping his…suit? What was that red thing the man was wearing? And what was _Lenny_ wearing? Instead of his long blue trench coat with white fur on the hood, the coat was shorter, darker, the fur darker too. It was clearly the back of Lenny's head, no mask on that Barry could see, but instead goggles hung from his neck.

The man he was kissing was wearing red, some single piece suit. He must have been a meta too. Maybe that was it. Maybe Lenny couldn't stand being with a normal human. Maybe he'd needed something more, someone more exciting. With long legs and a toned body revealed when Lenny started unzipping the suit. Brunette hair like Barry, but floofed up, messy from the cowl hanging from his neck that he must have been wearing earlier. Like Barry but stronger. Better, apparently, and…

And…

And wearing Barry's face!

Barry blinked as Lenny finished unzipping the suit and dropped to his knees between the man's thighs, spread open for him on the desk. His face, no longer hidden, was unmistakably Barry's own. No glasses. Broader, bigger, different, and yet…still Barry.

The zipper to the suit went all the way down, and with it open fully, it was easy for Lenny to pull the man's cock out to the open air and start to stroke him. That was definitely Barry.

"Len…" the other Barry moaned, dropping his head back as he braced himself on Eddie's desk.

Len. Another Barry. In a suit. And Lenny—Len—in the wrong costume.

They were breachers! Barry had heard about them from Lenny, some incident with Killer Frost, something about what Zoom was really up to, things Barry didn't have enough information on to write about, and that Lenny had made him promise he wouldn't investigate further until it was safe. If he wrote about something too close to home to what Zoom was planning, he'd be an automatic target. And just like how this Len and Barry didn't want each other in harm's way, Barry's Lenny didn't want him at risk either.

Lenny wasn't cheating on him. These people were from a whole other world. Lived entirely different lives. And yet…Barry grinned to himself as he realized that even on another earth, he and Lenny were still together.

All his anxiety and anger seeped out of him in a rush…while the other Barry moaned as Len took him into his mouth.

 _Oh_. Right. Barry should probably…not watch this. Lenny would be there soon to pick him up, and—

"Fuck, Len…your mouth…" Other Barry's hips rocked upwards, meeting Len's rhythmic bobbing. Wow, that looked…different from this angle.

Barry swallowed low in his throat, hidden as best he could be, but kept his view of the unfolding scene as he pressed in closer to the wall to hear and see all the better.

"How can you be so…I mean, _fuck_ , Len, one minute we're fighting and then—"

"Coz you're all keyed up, Barry," Len smacked his lips as he pulled back, before twirling out his tongue to lick at his Barry's exposed length. "That energy needs to go somewhere, and I'd rather help it along like this. Get it out of our systems before we head home."

"Cisco's going to—"

"Cisco will be fine, Scarlet. Focus on the moment."

Scarlet? Lenny called Barry that too, because he had blushed so deeply when they first met with the way Lenny flirted so mercilessly with him. At the time, Barry had thought he was meeting Citizen Cold; he didn't know the man beneath the mask until months later. He wondered only briefly who Cisco was.

Len continued to bob between Other Barry's legs, causing the Barry watching to get hotter and hotter under the collar and feel like he needed to loosen his bowtie. He never imagined watching himself get blown by Lenny could be so arousing. But then how could it not be? Maybe he should take Lenny up on that offer to film them sometime…

Other Barry's moans started to crescendo, his mouth dropping open further, eyes closed tight, legs spreading wider—

—only for Len to pull off with a pop and climb back up his body.

"Wh…What are you doing?"

"I'm still mildly upset, Barry. Did you think I was gonna play nice?" Len rumbled.

Barry shivered as he watched them, because he saw Other Barry shiver too, as Len's hands, gloved in black, pushed inside the red suit to touch the other man's bare skin, and his mouth hovered millimeters from capturing a kiss. Other Barry tried to scoot closer, to find some friction between them again, but Len held back.

"Ah, ah, ah…you want me to touch you again, you need to prove you can follow orders like a good boy." Len pulled Other Barry off the desk, held him close for a moment, long enough to avoid an attempted kiss, then started to push on Other Barry's shoulders to force him to his knees.

Barry was not the type of person who could touch himself in public. Certainly not in a situation like this where he was watching another couple engage in sexual relations. That would be wrong! Even if it was more or less himself he was watching, and his own boyfriend, in a weird way.

It was a lovely sight though, the way other Barry obeyed and dropped to his knees, undoing Len's black pants beneath the navy parka as he leaned against Eddie's desk for leverage. The costume was strange, and Barry could see the gun they'd been talking about, hooked into a holster at Len's side, but it was his face that was the most striking now that Barry could see it clearly.

That was Lenny's face, but it also…wasn't. He looked harder, colder, like he'd been through worse in his life than Lenny. And that seemed so sad to Barry, because Lenny had been through plenty. What sort of life had this Len lived that the only softness he seemed to carry was for his Barry?

Of course that also made Barry smile. No matter how bad things might be, there was a Barry in another world to make Len happy.

Len hummed in pleasure when Other Barry took him out and eagerly deep-throated him. He was so gentle despite having ordered the other man into that position. The roughness was a game more than anything real, because his hand was gentle when it reached for Other Barry's head, gloved fingers carding softly through brunette strands of hair, not holding him in place with any true force.

Barry and Lenny were much the same way whenever they fought, not that it was often. They'd barely finish with apologies and words of affection before they had each other's pants off. It was this insatiable need to be closer again after feeling separated, isolated by whatever their argument had been about.

In this case, with this Len and Barry, it was almost as if they were fighting over who loved the other more, and wanted to keep the other safe. Which was sad, and silly, and beautiful. Just as Len's cock sliding between Other Barry's lips was beautiful.

Barry reached down and squeezed himself through his slacks, if only to relieve some of the pressure of just how hard he was growing watching them.

"Use your hand, Barry…" Len panted, eyes hooded as he glanced down at the man between his thighs. "Let me feel those vibrations."

Vibrations?

Oh— _oh my._ Barry squeezed himself through his slacks again, because this other him, he _was_ a meta. But not just any meta. He blurred with speed! He was a speedster, like Garrick!

The red suit, the lightning bolt. He was The Flash in his world.

Wow. Barry Allen—The Flash. Barry nearly giggled at the notion, excited even though it didn't affect his life, in his world. It was just so fascinating that in some other reality, he was the meta and Lenny was the normal human.

And goodness, speed powers had all sorts of uses, it turned out.

Other Barry's face blurred, but also his hands, his fingers, as he held Len at the base while he sucked on his tip, and reached his other hand, also vibrating, to touch Len's balls, to reach back and tease gently at his entrance. In moments, Len was so overloaded with the combination of sensations, he rocked up from the desk, quivering as he came, something that only made the talented speedster deep-throat Len again to suck down every last drop.

He wiped at his mouth when he pulled off, glancing up coyly and batting his lashes at Len. "Now will you get me off? Please?"

Len sagged against the desk, his anger from before gone, all the tension that had been present in his shoulders diminishing in the aftermath of release. He looked down at Other Barry and reached for his chin, holding his face kindly but firm. "I should make you wait. Keep you hard the whole trip home. Then only let you come after I've thoroughly taken you apart, and there is no doubt that from now on you will always be honest with me."

"Always," Other Barry nodded, eager to be touched, to get off, but also sincere in his promise. "Please, Len…don't make me wait. I'll be good for you. I'll be so good…" He pressed a gentle kiss to Len's inner thigh.

Len sighed and slid his fingers back into the other Barry's hair again. "Get up here...and convince me."

Another squeeze through Barry's slacks, but it wasn't nearly enough. He was so hard. It would be easy to just…undo the button and draw the zipper down. They'd never know. No one would ever know…

Other Barry rose to his feet and kissed Len, their naked lower halves colliding while so much of them remained clothed. Other Barry's hands pushed their way inside Len's sweater, feeling his chest up to his collarbone, while he kissed him and slid his erection against Len's thigh, damp from being sucked off.

Len removed his gloves finger by finger, let them drop to the floor once they were off, then pulled from the kiss only to replace his lips with the fingers of his right hand. Other Barry sucked two into his mouth without pause, coating them with saliva in the hopes of what Len might do with those fingers. Once Len pulled the now glistening wet digits from between Other Barry's lips, he reached down and took hold of him, mixing precum and spit for a smoother stroke.

Other Barry's head dropped back, offering up his long neck for Len to latch onto with tongue and teeth. He rocked into Len's grip, as Len nipped and sucked down his throat. The panting breaths were a familiar sound to Barry because they were his own, though maybe that was because he was panting too, finally finding the strength of will to undo his slacks.

"Len…" Other Barry gasped.

 _Lenny_ , Barry thought. It was so easy to imagine that it wasn't his own hand palming him through his underwear, but that of his boyfriend.

It wasn't Len's strokes that caused the other Barry to cum, but the subtle disappearance of Len's hand inside the suit that finally pushed the speedster over the edge—a telling gasp, a deeper moan and ending whimper as Len undoubtedly slid his wet fingers inside his lover.

While Barry parted the slit of his boxers to reach inside, his other hand continued to brace his weight on the lamp on his editor's desk, something he didn't realize was a bad idea until the first relieving touch of skin on skin…and the disorienting loss of balance as the lamp slipped off the edge of the desk and crashed to the floor.

Barry stumbled back from the wall, nearly flailing in his attempt to keep from toppling over to join the ruined lamp. His hand that had only just started to touch himself, grasped for his messenger bag. In moments he'd stopped his backwards momentum, but as he recognized the peril he was in, he turned to run for the door.

Other Barry stood blocking his path.

Barry yelped, grasping the strap of his messenger bag with both hands. Unthinkingly, he spun around to try running the other direction, but there was Len, gun charged and glowing as it pointed directly at him.

"Don't shoot!" Barry ducked his head and raised both hands, as he backpedaled again trying to escape from being trapped between the pair. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that was…totally unacceptable behavior. But this is my building, and I was working late, and then you two came in, and I…I thought Lenny was cheating on me!"

"Lenny?" the other Barry said. His suit was zipped up, his cowl in place again, but he wore a somewhat entertained smile.

Barry slowly lowered his arms, though when he glanced at Len, the gun was still aimed and the man looked none too amused. At least he was fully dressed again too. "Uhh…yes? My Lenny. Obviously that's your Lenny. Or Len! I guess… I am so sorry. It felt wrong to interrupt, and I know I shouldn't have watched, but it was all so fascinating." His eyes widened behind his glasses as the other Barry chuckled. "Not watching! I mean…because you're me. But obviously not me. I mean, I know about breachers because of Garrick. Lenny and I know him, since he's Citizen Cold and they work together sometimes. You're Citizen Cold too, just with a gun, I guess, so you know—"

"Captain."

"What?" Barry clung again to his messenger bag as he stared at Len, who had finally let his gun power down.

"It's Captain Cold. _Citizen_ Cold?" he sneered, apparently unimpressed.

"Be nice, Len," the other Barry said, moving toward Barry, and oh, even with the mask on, that was weird, being so close when they looked so much alike. Though wow, even if Barry spent every day in the gym, instead of, well…none, he wouldn't look that good in something so skintight. "Look," Other Barry reached for his shoulder—

A blast of ice knocked the hand aside before it could make contact, covering Other Barry from elbow to fingertip.

Several things happened simultaneously: Other Barry cried out in pain; Len charged his gun again and aimed in the direction the blast had come from; Lenny burst into the room from the front doors, ready to shoot blasts of cold from his hands again; while Barry desperately wanted to duck, or maybe hide behind his counterpart or a nice large desk, but he knew he had to put a stop to this.

He spread his arms wide above his head and shouted, "Lenny, stop!"

Decked out in his Citizen Cold gear to match that of…Captain Cold, Lenny paused mere feet from Barry, hands glowing white and blue as frost came off of them in waves as an indicator that he was moments from firing. He didn't have his mask on or his hood up, wouldn't have thought he'd need all that going to pick up Barry, but in the moment he took to pause and listen to Barry's voice, he seemed to realize that the man he'd been about to shoot…had his face.

"Shit, shit…" Other Barry swore liberally as he shook his iced hand. Then the hand itself shook, vibrating to melt the ice around it, making the speedster hiss and gasp, but mostly look okay when he was done. "I wasn't going to hurt him, we're _you_ ," he said, and reached up with his other hand to pull his cowl down.

"Jay's breachers?" Lenny all but growled, letting the power drain from his hands but still holding them at the ready as he eyed his doppelganger with distrust until the gun lowered. "What are you doing here? What do you want from us?"

"All we wanted was a quiet place to chat, relax," Len said, raising his hands a moment to show he meant no harm before finally putting his gun back in its holster. "We had no idea your Barry was here. Found out just before you arrived."

Other Barry cleared his throat, pointedly nodding down at Barry's slacks—which were still open and he was mostly half-hard.

"Oh! Uhh…oh goodness," Barry said as he fumbled to do them up, catching Lenny's immediately accusing glare. "It's not what it looks like!" he shouted, which he knew the moment he said it was the wrong thing to say, because Lenny's hands started frosting over again.

"Me and Len were fooling around!" Other Barry held his arms out in placation. "Your Barry just snuck a peek. Pity that's all he did though," he added with a smirk and—hang on, what?!

Barry turned to gape at his double, something that was echoed by Len, as well as Lenny, whose hands dropped limp and harmless at his sides.

Other Barry shrugged, even with everyone's attention on him. "Just saying…if you'd have said something, you could have joined us. Definitely would have made things interesting." He glanced at his Len, eyed Lenny up and down, then cast an appreciative nod at Barry.

Barry hugged his messenger bag closer. "That is…highly inappropriate."

"Says the man who got off watching."

"It was a moment of weakness!"

"So why not have a few _more_ moments of weakness?"

"No," a chorus of Lenny's voice said as both he and the other Len spoke.

Other Barry snorted.

Len crossed the room to reach his speedster, keeping a wide berth of everything else, and tugged the other Barry by the arm. "I don't share," he said, mostly for his partner's benefit, it seemed.

"Neither do I," said Lenny. He moved forward to take hold of Barry's arm in kind, and suddenly there they were, two similar but very different pairs standing across from each other.

"I was only joking," Other Barry laughed. "Mostly."

Len spoke over him to change the subject, which was just as well, because Barry felt the need to loosen his bowtie again. "Zoom's dead."

"I heard," said Lenny. "That's why I'm late. I suppose we owe you our thanks then, Flash. And…"

"Captain Cold."

"Captain of what exactly?"

"Lenny…" There was no reason to fight; they were on the same side. Being the same people in a strange sense was beside the point.

"Well, uhh…we should go," Other Barry said, pulling from Len's grasp to replace his cowl. "Our friends will wonder where we went. Plus we were told not to interact with our doubles too much."

"Something you didn't seem to take to heart," Lenny eyed him, though not with the same distaste he displayed toward Len, more like exasperation, something Barry was used to being directed at him.

Other Barry winked.

"Come on, Scarlet," Len said grumpily, before casting his scowl on Lenny again. "Try not to lose your city to a psychopath next time. We won't always be around to clean up your mess."

" _Len_ ," Other Barry hissed.

But Lenny just smirked. "You need a gun, huh? Pity for you."

"Yeah, well, in my world I leave being a meta to Barry. He vibrates."

"Bet mine's more limber," Lenny shot back, which made Barry blush…but really love his boyfriend in that moment.

"Careful. _Someone_ might suggest we test that wager." Len raised an eyebrow at his snickering boyfriend. "See ya around, Citizen Cold."

"Let's hope _not_ , Captain."

Watching the pair leave was almost as excited as watching them get each other off—almost. But the whir of lightning and rush of air was exhilarating. Until Barry remembered that he was now alone with a very angry Lenny, who turned to him with a glower.

"I saw someone who looked and sounded like you doing things to someone who looked and sounded like me. I had to look! I didn't mean to watch for so long, I wasn't thinking straight!"

"And the slacks?"

"I wasn't really going to…" Barry trailed as he glanced up and saw Lenny's disbelieving stare. "Okay, I probably was, but only because they made me think of you! It was kind of…sexy. Them doing something like that here, in the office. I think the most adventurous place we've ever had sex was the sofa."

Barry immediately regretted saying such a thing, because Lenny turned away from him.

"Oh, Lenny, I didn't mean anything by that! I just—"

Lenny whipped around so fast, Barry gasped before he felt the sting of cold. He looked down in shock to see that his outstretched hands now sported a pair of ice handcuffs.

"Le-Lenny!"

"You want adventurous, huh?" Lenny said in a low, lilting voice.

Barry swallowed as he looked up from the cuffs into Lenny's bright blue—glowing—eyes. How quickly he went from half-hard to full-mast again was admittedly impressive. "Lenny…" he said again, almost giggling at the very idea, but then the other them had gotten away with it. Maybe a little public romp could be fun.

"Come here," Lenny said, reaching for Barry's face with a cool but always gentle hand, as he drew Barry in for a kiss.

Meeting their doubles had some perks.

* * *

TBC...


	12. Please, like you don't enjoy being watch

In honor of reaching 1000 followers on tumblr, I promised the next chapter of this, and here it is. :-) I have four more parts I'd like to do before I consider this complete, but not sure when I'll get to them. I'm pretty devoted to Lovesick, but I promise there will be more of this eventually. Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos thus far. They really do convince me to want to write more. :-)

* * *

Outwardly, Caitlin lamented this part of being one of the heads of research for a major company—inwardly, it was pretty fun getting to play dress up on occasion. Barry got to do it every night.

She'd gone bold for the fundraiser—red. She was Team Flash, after all. Long and figure hugging with a slight slit, off the shoulder straps, a sweetheart neckline, and her hair done up with a swirl of curls over one shoulder. The girls had all gone out together to get dolled up for the night. And 'the girls' was quite the growing population when Team Arrow and the Legends added to their ranks.

Caitlin was acting hostess as more of 'the face' of STAR Labs, since Cisco had lamented the idea with a gesture at himself, "This face isn't right for print. Go knock 'em dead, girlfriend."

And Barry had simply shaken his head. "Better to not put the guy who's actually The Flash at the forefront, doncha think?"

They so owed her.

But the fundraiser, sponsored by Palmer Technologies with a few famous faces – Oliver Queen of course besides Ray himself – would help bring in much needed grant money to continue STAR Labs' ongoing research projects. And allow them to continue acting as the hub for the local superhero, which as much as Central City wasn't supposed to know that, seemed to be the down-low secret nobody bought. Everyone knew what that lightning streak looked like, and it always came from the same location.

Caitlin smiled a little harried at the waiters buzzing around getting the champagne and hors d'oeuvres set up for the event, which started in less than twenty minutes. _Crap_. She had to be the first face to greet the invited guests. The ballroom they'd rented for the evening was in the fanciest hotel in Central, so the place was huge, with marble pillars and chandeliers—the works. Caitlin would have taken more time to admire the way everything glittered around her if there wasn't work to be done.

There were programs that had been printed last minute detailing STAR Labs' project plan for the year that had to be distributed around the tables. A printing error had thrown everything off, and she'd gotten the new ones just now. The only person who could accomplish the job of distributing them at the 11th hour was The Flash.

Caitlin could just…gather all of the waiters in one spot for a moment, or get them to turn their heads at least, and oops, when they looked back, the programs would magically be where they should be. People dismissed crazy things like that all the time!

If only she could find Barry.

"Ray, have you seen Barry anywhere?"

"Huh?" Ray whirled around from where he'd been talking with Mick, Sara, and Nyssa, and— _wow_.

Nyssa was one thing with her well-muscled arms on display in a slinky green dress, which the former assassin looked slightly uncomfortable in; Sara was also sporting a tux, with black slacks, vest, an open jacket, and a high-collared white shirt; and Caitlin had seen Ray in a classic tux several times before. But Mick looked…really well put together.

His black suit was definitely of the same caliber as Ray's, but he wore a black shirt, no tie—even though the event was supposed to be black tie, but who was going to call out Heat Wave to his face? Even if he did technically work with the CCPD now.

"Oh, uhh…maybe?" Ray shrugged. His eyes widened and he bit his lip in the most obvious of tells.

Caitlin turned to Sara in exasperation.

"We may have seen him and Leonard head _that_ way." She jerked her thumb toward the kitchens.

"Were we not supposed to divulge that?" Nyssa asked.

Ray smiled in apology. Mick snorted.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Caitlin balked.

"Can ya blame 'em?" Mick downed a glass of champagne he'd somehow already snagged from the bar. "Been a while."

"Yes, I can blame them," Caitlin wagged a finger his direction, making the burly man scowl and lean back slightly—which might have caused her amusement given the difference from their first encounter to now, but not tonight. "I expect better of Snart at least."

"Really?" Sara scoffed. "Because Leonard was definitely the one dragging Barry off in a hurry, not the other way around." Her hair was done up to show off the high collar of her shirt and jacket.

Caitlin considered conscripting Mick for help dragging the two troublemakers out from wherever they'd snuck off to, but when he backed up an actual step in the face of her full attention, she figured she was a more frightening figure at the moment and would handle it herself.

She stormed off in the direction of the kitchens with one of the new programs clenched tightly in her fist, because once she found Barry, she was putting him to work, no matter how entangled he was. She'd spent actual work hours on actual work for once organizing everything for this fundraiser. There were patents on the line. Her patents!

"Barry!" she called, as soon as the kitchen door swung wildly shut behind her. Some of the kitchen staff passed her curious glances, but Diggle was the one who took notice. He was speaking with a security officer about the back exits. No event this high-profile could be done without caution in Central or Star City.

Diggle thanked the security officer and approached Caitlin with a raised eyebrow. He wore a simple tux, but in all black. "Problem, Dr. Snow?"

"There's about to be. Have you seen Barry?"

Diggle opened his mouth as if about to say 'no' but then stopped. He looked off in the direction of the freezer with a raised eyebrow, and said, "You people are more than I can handle, ya know that? Coz a minute ago, I thought I caught something out the corner of my eye, but when nothing was there, I figured I'd imagined it. If I was home, I _would_ have imagined it. But not in Central. Nope. You folks got guys who control the weather and giant shark men wandering about."

"That way?" Caitlin gestured where he'd pointed.

"A blur that should be nothing but might have been the Flash—yeah. Crazy town…" he shook his head as he turned to head off in the direction the security officer had gone.

Caitlin stomped off toward the freezer. Captain Cold wouldn't be so cliché that he'd actually drag The Flash into the freezer, would he? But Caitlin wouldn't put anything past these two, and was about to wrench the large door open…when she heard faint whimpers from around the corner. There wasn't much of anything back here other than the freezer itself, but there was considerable space between the freezer and the wall.

Caitlin took a few cautious, slower steps closer to the corner around the side of the freezer. Unmistakably _Barry's_ voice giggled, and then gasped, and she was so not having any of this. Hands on her hips, she stepped into view of their hiding spot with a cold glare, which faltered only for a moment as she took in the state of them.

Snart had Barry boxed into the corner, one hand pressed to the wall as he sucked down Barry's throat, his hand down the front of Barry's undone slacks. Barry's eyes were closed or they would have noticed Caitlin by now, his lips parted as whimpers and moans left him under Snart's attentions.

"Bartholomew Henry Allen!" she barked, earning a yelp from Barry as his eyes sprung wide. "And Leonard…I'd pull out your middle name too if I knew it. _What_ do you two think you're doing?"

A cross between a smug grin and a roll of exasperated eyes greeted her when Snart glanced back. He kept his hands and body where they were, but Barry tugged at the hand inside his pants to remove it and pushed the other man back a step.

Barry's hair, which had been perfect half an hour ago, was tousled closer to his usual style, his classic black and white tux in disarray, and bow tie unclipped to hang haphazard from one side of his neck. He quickly did up his fly, smoothed down his shirt, and fixed his tie at Flash speed, nearly perfect again in seconds.

Snart had clearly been doing all the tousling. His navy ensemble was flawless. His Windsor knot tie, shiny and blue, looked pristine against his black shirt, vest neatly in place, and jacket open with a high collar similar to Sara's.

"Just passing the time, doc," he said. "Wouldn't have been late. I was watching the clock."

Caitlin would have crossed her arms to accompany her answering huff, if it wasn't rather difficult to do that in this dress. "Need I remind you both the importance of this event? These investors are the only thing preventing us from moving Team Flash into someone's _basement_. The generosity of Palmer Tech can only stretch so far."

"I know! I know," Barry stepped forward, hands outstretched pleadingly. "And I know it's not an excuse, we just…haven't had any time alone since Len got back."

Damn those Barry Allen puppy eyes. But Snart's triumphant smirk helped keep Caitlin focused. She pointed her threatening authoritarian finger in Barry's face like she had with Mick, and Barry flinched. "You can wait until the party's over. Now don't let me catch you two acting like horny teenagers again. _Not_ tonight. You hear me?" she shifted her finger of doom on Snart.

He shrugged. "I don't make promises I can't keep."

Barry choked on a laugh.

"Urg," Caitlin groaned as she dropped her hands to her sides. "Come on, Barry," she said, snatching up his wrist and pressing the crumpled program she'd been carrying into his chest before tugging him out of the corner, "I have a job for you."

"Uhhh...okay. Len?"

"No worries, Scarlet. I'll catch up," Snart called after them, with far too much devious promise in his tone.

Potentially millions of dollars at stake. Caitlin's reputation as a doctor and woman of science. The Labs' reputation. _Barry's_ reputation. And these two were making out in dark corners. She seriously put up with far too much.

* * *

Snow was wound tighter than a two dollar watch, Lisa observed. Poor woman deserved to get drunk after tonight, since at the moment she had to keep her wits about her, even if it was a party. Lisa would have to take her and the other ladies out for brunch in the morning. Mimosas sounded divine.

Though not quite as divine as Lisa looked tonight. Cisco had sounded disappointed when she told him she'd decided to go with a suit instead of a cocktail dress for the occasion, much as he'd tried to hide it. But that had changed the second he saw her.

She knew how to wear a suit, and it wasn't the same as Sara's sharp style. No, Lisa had a simple all black number consisting of fitted slacks, and a long blazer with a deep V nearly to her belly-button—and nothing beneath. She had a string of pearls on though that drew the attention right where she wanted it to, though only one person's attention mattered to her.

"You're staring again, sweetie," Lisa batted her eyes at Cisco.

He immediately snapped to attention from where his eyes had been trained on her pearls. "I can't help it! You're taller than me in heels."

"Honey," she leaned down a bit to whisper in his ear, "I'm taller than you anyway. It's _hot,_ " she said breathily, and felt him shiver against her. "Though not as hot as you in that suit."

Unlike most of their male friends in traditional tuxes, Cisco had gone with a suit and tie in deep purple, and a black shirt. His long hair remained loose, the way Lisa liked it, just like her own cascade of hair tonight.

He turned to her with his dark eyes all sultry and close, then broke into a grin and asked in a slightly higher pitched version of his voice, "Really?"

"Well…except for one thing." She leaned away from him.

"What?"

"How much I want to get you out of it." She winked.

Cisco's darker complexion did nothing to hide his blush.

An older woman, with a rather accessible handbag made her way toward them, and Lisa, always perceptive of the situation, leaned back just enough to accidentally bump her. "Oh I'm so sorry," she said as she turned, and expertly snuck her hand in and out of the purse in moments while keeping the woman's eyes on her face. "I'm such a klutz."

"Not at all, dear," the woman dismissed her politely, and continued on unaware.

Once the woman was out of range, Lisa held up a money clip for Cisco to see then tucked it into his jacket pocket. His pockets had more room.

"How did you…?" he started out a touch too loud, then dropped his voice to a hush as he leaned closer. "Is that four or five?"

"Five. You should have given me a higher challenge than six, honey. We're only half an hour into this thing. Six is child's play with people like this."

"Double or nothing?"

Twelve flawless pickpockets without getting caught? It had been a while, but Lisa was game. "You're on."

"But remember, you have to give it all back at the end of the night."

"Not to worry. It'll all show up in the lost and found. Unless I win the bet. Then I get to keep something shiny. Two things now." She grinned sweetly at him and tugged on his lapels. If he won, they'd end the night back at his place. Which of course Lisa had planned anyway. She was so winning this bet, but she'd take him home regardless.

She was about to tell him what a naughty boy he was for suggesting the bet in the first place, when she spotted Len and Barry just ahead of them. The crowd was rather thick, since they'd camped themselves in the area near the technology displays for STAR Labs' patents. Cisco had to be on hand to explain things when investors had questions. Plus Lisa loved hearing Cisco talk shop.

Len and Barry didn't seem to notice where they were, only that they had a mask of people around them to (mostly) hide that they were constantly pressed up against each other. They were even facing each other as they talked, might as well have been sucking face right in front of everyone. Their hands definitely weren't being chaste.

Barry seemed to be trying to move Len's hands away from any sensitive areas whenever they strayed. He'd giggle, duck his head, push and squirm, but only half-heartedly in that 'we really shouldn't, but I really want to' sort of way. Lisa had never in her life seen Lenny act like such a love struck fool before, all handsy—in _public_. Well, more public than their other public romps, with people literally within touching distance.

Then she saw Len's hand drop to Barry's thigh, drawing up his pant leg with taping, twirling, teasing fingers, that didn't stop when they reached his groin, but traced him knowingly, making Barry lean forward into him and grip Len's arm tightly. Then he traced back down, and up again, twirled his fingers around what was so obviously—

 _Oh my god, is that the outline of The Flash's cock?_ Because Lisa was not drunk enough to catch a similar glimpse from Len if he was in the same state.

" _Lenny_ ," she hissed as she pushed past a bewildered Cisco and grabbed her brother by the sleeve of his suit, "stop groping your boyfriend in public."

Barry looked instantly mortified that they'd been caught—seriously, how did they expect no one would see in the crowd—and pushed away from Len. But nope, no way. Lisa grabbed Barry too, and tossed him back toward Cisco.

"Cool your boy down a little, will you?" she told him, and while Cisco's eyes didn't find Barry's little problem, he seemed to understand anyway, and looked between Len and Barry like it was no surprise at all they'd be up to this sort of no good.

And Lisa thought she was being naughty with a little harmless pickpocketing.

"I'll get this one a drink," she said, and dragged her brother after her through the crowd.

" _Lise_."

"Down, boy. Don't even start with me," she said hushed as they wormed their way toward the bar. "I know he makes you feel half your age, but this is getting downright indecent now."

"A light graze through tuxedo pants is worse than a blowjob during a Rogues meeting?" he growled.

"Point. No. But that doesn't make this any better. And don't you dare ever do something like _that_ again." She tugged him close to threaten him directly. "At least not while I'm in the room. Heathen."

When they got to the bar, she threw him at one of the stools, ordered them both a scotch and soda, and said she better not find him and Barry out amidst their unsuspecting public like that again. Captain Cold might have a pardon from the mayor for all of his recent work with The Flash, but the general populous had no idea he was secretly dating the local superhero—or his alter ego as the CCPD's youngest and most beloved CSI.

* * *

The journalist in Iris desperately wanted to escape her duties to write about something more interesting than the basics of the fundraiser for Sunday's paper, especially since she'd seen Lisa—looking like a knockout as always—dragging an equally gorgeous looking Len behind her toward the bar. What had that been about, she wondered?

She smiled for a picture with her father, pleased she didn't have to take any photographs herself. She was the writer, and the photographs were another person's job. She was just glad she could cover the event, which gave her an excuse to attend even when she still had an article to get in for the week.

Normally, this sort of thing would have gone to the entertainment section, but Iris had some ins with Team Flash, after all, and could write about the redemption of several Rogues, who also supported STAR Labs' endeavors to keep the city safe.

"You look beautiful tonight, baby," Joe held her close for a moment after the photographer ran off to capture Oliver Queen's photo—again.

"Not so bad yourself, Dad," she said, and kissed his cheek.

She was pretty impressed with herself though. Normally, she never would have been able to afford the marigold yellow gown she was sporting, draped over one shoulder while hanging elegantly off the other. Felicity may have declared some of Palmer Tech's petty cash suitable for girls' day out, including getting new duds for those who needed it.

"Detective. Miss West," Captain Singh greeted them as he and his husband strolled over, dawning tuxes of their own, though Rob's bowtie was red.

"Captain," Joe smiled.

"Quite the party," said Rob with a broad smile.

"I hear the guest list is…interesting," Singh nodded at Mick Rory amongst the crowd. "Strange times, huh, Joe?"

"Pretty sure they got strange as soon as the fastest man alive showed up."

Rob leaned conspiratorially closer to them. "And how is Barry? Didn't see him when we came in."

Iris knew Joe was relieved that the Captain knew the truth now. Beat having to hide things from him. Rob was a natural extension of that, which made Iris smile. Just as a couple should be: no secrets.

"He's around here somewhere," Joe glanced around as he realized they hadn't seen Barry in a while either.

"Likely wherever Len is," Iris shrugged. Though the former thief wasn't at the bar anymore. Huh.

Singh shook his head with an exasperation that he and Joe shared. "Strange times indeed."

Iris excused herself to make a few more rounds of the guests, get some good story elements for her article on why certain patrons were willing to donate to STAR Labs, home of The Flash and a slew of former Rogues—not that she could blatantly say that, but it was well known. Certain things about Central City people just didn't question.

She had a recorder hidden in her clutch that she brought out when she wanted to get a quote just right. She really wanted to get some words from Len and Barry, but they were nowhere to be found in the expansive ballroom.

Iris headed for the stage where a podium had been set up for later when Caitlin and the others would give their speeches for the evening. She was just making it up the side steps, and had opened her mouth to speak a few notes into her recorder, when she heard something else instead.

" _Len_ …" came Barry's voice, loud enough that it definitely just got recorded with Iris's interviews and notes. "Oh god…oh _yes_ …just like that…"

Iris flushed from the needy sound of Barry's voice before she'd even thought to turn her head toward the bowels of backstage and caught sight of Len and Barry in the shadows. Barry leaned back against the wall behind the curtains, while Len was on his knees, with Barry's pants down as Len fervently attended to between his legs.

" _Barry_ ," Iris hissed, her clutch held up to cover her mouth, while the other hand still held her recorder, as if Barry was the one at fault, when clearly Len had been the instigator. The man pulled off of Barry with a frustrated groan rather than offer any sign of embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Barry scrambled to cover himself. " _Iris_ …uhh…"

"You two are unbelievable," Iris held back a laugh between being impressed and mortified. "Get your pants back on and get back out there, Barry! What were you two even thinking? Anyone could have caught you back here."

Len wiped his mouth and stood with the casual grace of a predator. "Most people aren't investigative journalists."

Iris smirked at him.

"Wait, did you record that?" Barry asked as he pulled up his pants.

"And don't think I won't print this with the rest of my story if you don't hurry and zip up."

Barry did so quickly. "He started it." He gestured unabashedly at Len, passing on the blame.

Len raised an eyebrow at him. "Complaining?"

The goofy grin that graced Barry's face was sign enough of just how quickly they could end up right back in another compromising position.

"When you're, ahem…calmed enough, get back to work, Barry. Len, we're doing that interview you owe me so I can keep you occupied." Iris gestured him over with her recorder.

He glanced at Barry longingly, who bit his lip in reply—which _so_ wasn't helping—but eventually followed Iris back away from the stage.

* * *

Sara had only caught a fragment of what Iris said to her when she breezed past with Leonard in tow. Something about keeping an eye on Barry once he resurfaced. Which he did a few minutes later, looking for Leonard, and so Sara did her duty and passed other people his direction to keep him busy.

Laurel and Thea were only too happy to help, since they rarely spent time with the speedster, and had a slew of questions for him. Both looked stunning in gowns that echoed their costumes—Laurel in black, while Thea was in burgundy. Nyssa joined in on Barry as well, intrigued by the notion of meta humans when she'd grown up only knowing magic.

Sara held back and watched the way Barry would scratch his neck in embarrassment occasionally, talking to them all, or to a passing investor. He also not at all subtly kept scanning the ballroom for Leonard, who Iris was undoubtedly keeping busy herself.

Eventually, Felicity and Oliver appeared out of the crowd. That would keep Barry in line. The kid straightened immediately upon seeing Oliver as if he feared being scolded for merely existing.

Oliver, of course, always made a tux look effortless. Felicity, wearing a gorgeous, flowing, off the shoulder fuchsia dress, seemed relieved to have finally escaped how both she and Oliver had to field so many questions of their own from investors simply because of who they were, and the prominent position she held running Palmer Tech.

Ray had never gone back to being CEO full time, but kept the name of the company his—for now. Sara still suspected it would bear the name Smoak eventually.

"You're doing it again," Mick gruffed out beside her.

She glanced at him. He was doing it too. Casing the place. The people. Watching like a trained thief and assassin respectively for any edge or advantage. It helped Sara relax in a crowd. She knew Mick felt the same, not much for high society breathing down his neck, though he didn't seem to mind the open bar. He had what she guessed was whiskey now.

"Might come in handy knowing what makes The Flash squirm," she said, sipping the cocktail Nyssa had brought back for her from the bar, which the former League of Assassins leader had been introduced to by Thea—Death in the Afternoon.

"Already know what makes him squirm," Mick snickered. "And speak of the devil…"

Sara turned in the direction Mick was looking to see Leonard bee-lining it for The Scarlet Speedster, having finally escaped Iris. It was no wonder really, given what they'd been through during the last of their mission against Vandal Savage.

While Barry was surrounded by friends and investors vying for his attention, Leonard made a point to insinuate himself right next to the kid, catching Barry's eye in a very obvious 'let's get away while we can' nod of his head. He didn't even give Barry the chance to make up excuses to get away from the people around him before he let his hands do further convincing.

The average person talking with Barry, interested in the ins and outs of STAR Labs, wouldn't have noticed, but Sara's eye was only too keen. She saw the way Leonard reached around to grab a quick handful of Barry's ass—and squeeze. The kid practically jumped a full foot in the air.

That wasn't usually Leonard's style with so many people around. He eased up when it became obvious that Barry couldn't just walk away from the conversations he was part of, but Leonard still kept finding ways to touch Barry—his lower back, his arm, his ass again, a bit more subtly.

Leonard had been the one to convince Sara to go after Nyssa, despite their differences and the pitfalls of their relationship before now. Coming home to discover that Nyssa had given up the League, disbanded it completely, made it only too easy for them to slot into each other's lives again. Sara couldn't grudge Leonard likewise wanting some quality time with his better half.

She nudged Mick. "I guess the oculus really put things in perspective for him huh? It's no wonder they can't keep their hands off each other. Barry probably jumped him as soon as he found out."

Mick squirmed as he took another drink from his whiskey. "Yeah, that…didn't happen."

"What?" She whirled on Mick. "He didn't tell Barry about the oculus?"

"Didn't wanna worry the kid over something that's said and done."

"Mick," Sara narrowed her eyes, "that's bullshit and you know it. Barry has a right to know. Leonard isn't planning on telling him— _ever_?"

"Doubtful," Mick shrugged.

Sara stole his drink before he could continue to hide behind it. "You have to tell Barry."

"Me? What the hell for?" He made a swipe to reclaim the glass, but couldn't outmatch her reflexes without making a scene. "And why do I gotta do it?"

"He knows you best."

Mick eyed her skeptically.

"Better than me."

"What about haircut over there?" He gestured at Ray in the crowd around Barry.

Sara stifled a laugh. "You really want _Ray_ to be the one to tell Barry?"

Mick stopped trying to snatch his glass back and deflated at the thought. "Yeah, that'd blow up pretty fast. Fine," he scowled, "what am I supposed to say?"

At last, Sara pushed his glass back into his hands. "The truth usually works."

Sara made eye contact with Lisa as she headed their direction, and gave a telling nod toward Leonard. Without even needing to explain further, Lisa understood, and wedged her way in closer to her brother until she could lure him away. He put up a fight at first, but Sara knew firsthand that he was always hard-pressed to refuse his little sister.

Barry frowned at how Len had once again been taken away from him, but that's when Mick and Sara made their move. They stepped up to rescue Barry from the crowd that had quickly faded from being mostly their friends, to being practically all high society types that Barry didn't seem to know how to talk to.

Barry looked relieved once they managed to pull him off to the side. "Hey, guys, what's up?"

Mick clutched at his glass a little too tightly as he fought for how to start. "You notice Len acting weird tonight, Red?"

"As in…?"

"Exceptionally horny," Sara put in.

Barry scratched the back of his neck as his face flushed with color—he needed to work on his tells. "Oh, I mean…okay, I know we've been pretty awful tonight," he said in a hushed rush, his slowly widening grin adorable and infectious, "but I'm not exactly complaining. He usually wouldn't be so tactile in public, but it's kinda nice, ya know? I missed him. I like seeing how much he missed me too."

Sara's heart ached for the naivety of this kid. "What if it's more than just missing you, Barry?"

"What do you mean?" His smile twitched.

So they told him—everything. About how Mick had taken Ray's place at the oculus, and then how Leonard had in turn taken Mick's place to see the machine destroyed for good. They'd thought they'd lost him. That Leonard was dead—gone—forever. It was only once they returned home, agonizing over how to tell Barry and Lisa, that they'd gotten caught up in another adventure that led them to discovering how to rescue Leonard from being trapped within the time stream.

"Lisa knows. I thought he told you," Sara said.

The color had drained from Barry's face. "No…he didn't."

"It's more than missing you, Barry," she said again. "It's making up for time with you that he'd thought he lost forever."

Barry looked around with a stricken expression, seeking Leonard in the crowd. "I…I have to find him. Thank you," he turned back to them gratefully. "Thank you for telling me." Then he was gone, almost as if he'd used a burst of his speed.

"You sure that's not gonna come back and bite us in the ass?" Mick leaned over to Sara with a frown.

"Knowing those two? Someone's gonna be biting someone's ass." She held out her glass for Mick to clink, more than confident they could work things out.

Mick's scowl fell away as he snickered again, and brought their glasses together. "Ain't wrong there, sister."

* * *

Whatever Sara and Mick had just told Barry, it had caused him to zip out of the crowded center of the ballroom almost fast enough to spark his lightning trail. Felicity had to find out what was going on.

Barry and Snart had been all over each other all night. Which was…seriously hot and endearing at the same time, and had nothing to do with why Felicity was interested. Of course not! She was just… _interested_. She wasn't called Overwatch for nothing. Information was her life! She was practically obligated to follow Barry.

Of course following the fastest man alive was easier said than done. In moments, Felicity had already lost sight of Barry. She couldn't seem to spot Snart anywhere either.

"So you still visit Jay on Earth-2?" Laurel asked Caitlin as Felicity hurried over to them. "That is a whole new take on long-distance."

Caitlin was sipping on her first glass of champagne, too nervous about having to speak later to risk drinking more. "It's umm…important for interdimensional relations."

"Uh huh…" Laurel smirked.

"Hey, guys!" Felicity tried to collect her haggard breathing from rushing around the ballroom. "You seen Barry or Snart anywhere?"

" _Why_?" Caitlin asked with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"I thought I saw them heading toward the entrance a few minutes ago, figured they were stepping out for some air," Laurel offered.

Caitlin tensed up like she was ready to hurl her glass at whichever of them appeared before her first.

"I'm on it," Felicity assured the vein starting to throb out of Caitlin's forehead, which was almost on par with Oliver's—impressive.

"The speeches start in less than fifteen minutes!" Caitlin called as Felicity darted off in the direction Laurel had indicated. The entrance didn't have many options for where Barry and Snart might have gone next, unless they really had gone outside.

But as Felicity zigged and zagged her way through groupings of both familiar and unfamiliar faces, she had only just reached the archway of the entrance when a hand closed around her forearm.

"Felicity? You have that look on your face," Oliver said as he gently whirled her around.

"Oliver! Uhh…" They'd both sworn not to lie to each other anymore—ever—about anything. Yet she still stumbled a moment thinking of how best to explain what she was up to. She was concerned something might be seriously wrong, that's all. Barry's face when he dashed off after talking with Mick and Sara had not been happy. "What look?" she shrugged.

Oliver pulled her close to whisper, "That look you get when you're _working_. We're supposed to be relaxing tonight. No vigilante business. It's a party," he smiled, and oh that was just _cheating_ , "you look phenomenal," he glanced down at her indeed phenomenal pink dress, "and you deserve a night off once in a while. What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said on reflex, and then remembered the 'no lying' caveat when he raised an eyebrow at her. "I think Snart and Barry are having a fight," she confessed in a rush. "I want to be sure everything's okay. Caitlin's freaked about the speeches starting soon, Barry needs to be up there, and they've both been through so much lately—"

"Felicity," Oliver said sternly—damn, the stern voice couldn't mean anything good. But when she met his eyes again she saw that he was still smiling. "If it's important, it's important. What can I do to help?"

Oh Felicity loved this man. She gripped both of his arms as his hand fall away from hers. "Stand guard by the entrance in case either of them comes back in, or if anyone tries to head out. They're somewhere down that hallway or outside, and I just want to be sure everything's okay."

"Go," he said, completely understanding, as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I'll keep watch. I'm sure whatever it is, it's nothing they can't weather."

Felicity paused to kiss him full on the lips before pulling away. "You are the literal best, Oliver Queen. And this whole…" she gestured with her hand in an all-encompassing motion at his James Bond-esque tux, "…whole thing is just…mmm. I will definitely be paying you back for this later."

She darted out of the ballroom, scanning the hallway for where Barry and Snart might have gone, or any corners they might be hiding behind. The only place within view was the coat check room. Maybe someone there had seen something!

Rushing up to the counter, Felicity opened her mouth with a ready 'excuse me' only to see that no one was manning the desk. Sure, the event was in mid-swing, so it wasn't likely that anyone would be leaving or coming in late, but the coat checker's job was to stay on-call in case someone needed something out of their jackets. They wouldn't have just abandoned their post. Would they?

Felicity prepared to call out a loud 'hello' just to be safe, when the faint sound of shuffling and a definite moan reached her from behind the rows of coats. Someone wasn't murdering the coat check person during a fundraiser were they?

Felicity glanced back to see Oliver facing the crowded ballroom as requested, politely interacting with any blue bloods that crossed his path like a trained socialite. Even with his back to her, he was easily within screaming distance if something went wrong.

The door to the coat room was locked, but the window was more than large enough for Felicity to sneak through. She hopped up onto the counter, whirled her feet around to the other side, full skirt and all, and landed within the claustrophobic confines of the coat room on heeled feet.

Heading toward where the sounds were coming from, she pulled the Taser out of her clutch. She wasn't completely stupid. But that was definitely moaning coming from behind the rows. A _man_ moaning. With a very familiar voice…

"You really thought you could get away with not telling me?" _Barry_.

Another moaned echoed in _Snart's_ voice.

Shit.

"Pulling me into dark corners…touching me every chance you could get…I thought you just missed me," Barry said, drawing Felicity's feet forward into the maze of coats despite knowing now that no one was in danger. "I almost lost you and didn't even know it, Len. _Fucking_ you is way more important than some stupid fundraiser."

A gasp responded, and then Snart chuckled low and gruff. "Don't let Snow hear you say that," he said, before breaking off with another sharp intake of breath from whatever Barry was doing to him.

Felicity put her Taser back in her purse.

"We promised no more lying."

"I know, Barry."

"You weren't gonna tell me."

"I was. I just…hadn't figured out _how_. Wanted to feel you first. To hold you." He cried out like they were doing a lot more than holding each other at the moment. "Needed to remind myself…how lucky I am. Figured you'd be pissed once I came clean."

"For waiting so long to tell me?"

"For all of it."

"Len…" Barry's voice was plaintive now, and Felicity almost turned on her heels, but she had to hear how this ended, "I'd never be mad at you for doing the right thing. It scares me to imagine losing you, but knowing what you were willing to sacrifice to protect your team…just makes me love you _more_." Again, a gasp from Snart, from Barry, moans from both of them intermingling. "Now let's finish what we started…"

Felicity had reached the back of the coat room. She should turn around now, leave them to their privacy now that she knew everything would be all right between them. She could tell by the proximity of the voices that Snart and Barry were right behind the rack of coats in front of her. She should turn around… But too curious to hold back, she parted the jackets hanging there with a swipe of her hand, just to steal a peek, and peered through to the other side.

Several coats lay on the floor, blanketing the area Snart and Barry occupied in the far back corner, away from prying eyes—well, most prying eyes—though they weren't exactly being quiet. They must have gotten the coat check person to make scarce, maybe paid them off, and had the room all to themselves.

Snart had his back pressed into the corner, even as he was otherwise laid out on the coats. Barry was on his knees, bending Snart in two, hilt deep inside him with their pants and underwear in a crumpled heap beside them. Snart's tie was undone, his shirt open, several marks of Barry's mouth emblazoned on his neck and collarbone. His face was so uncharacteristically flush while Barry fucked him.

And Barry seemed so powerful, the way he held Snart, his own upper half barely ruffled, bowtie still perfectly in place from Felicity's angle. It was just so…raw, and bold, and _wow_ , Felicity could use a drink.

Then she saw it—Oliver's jacket, a black pea coat with a green handkerchief peeking out of the pocket. And it was the only thing between Snart's bare ass and the carpet.

She snickered, and two sets of eyes immediately whipped toward her.

Felicity tried to suppress her grin, she really did, but the show was something to behold, and the fact that they were on Oliver's jacket was too hilarious. "Don't stop on my account," she said, tilting her head to the side as she took them both in. After all, they were the ones always doing things like this in public spaces.

" _Felicity_ …" Snart growled.

But instead of blushing and stammering and telling her to get out, Barry turned back to face Snart and bucked his hips forward, making the thief cry out again. "You heard her…" Barry rumbled, and _whoa_ , Felicity never knew he had that sort of sultry tone in him. Nice.

Barry latched onto Snart's neck, sucking another red mark into his skin, while Snart dropped his head back against the wall and moaned. The rhythm of Barry's hips never faltered, the slow but steady slide of him inside Snart, bending him in half there in the corner, surrounded by Central City's richest pockets.

Barry had really nice legs, but Snart's— _damn_.

"Okay, wow…" Felicity glanced to the floor. "Maybe I'm not this kinky." But as soon as she wasn't watching them, she picked up more on what she could _hear_ and had to glance up. "Then again…"

"Felicity?" Oliver called out from the front of the room.

This time Barry's head snapped back to look at her with pleading in his eyes. Snart looked close to pleading too, but for a very different reason.

Right. Felicity was supposed to be being a good friend here, not a terrible voyeur. Though seriously, this would fuel some of her more adventurous dreams for a while. She wondered if Oliver would ever be interested in—

"Felicity!" he called again.

 _Shit_. Felicity pulled her arm away from parting the coats, hiding Snart and Barry from view, and turned around to ready herself for Oliver. Having your bro's back didn't count as lying, did it?

"There you are," Oliver said when he came into view from around the racks of coats. "Where's the coat check person?"

"Oliver! Yes. I'm here. And _you're_ here. But Snart and Barry definitely aren't. So why don't we—"

A telling moan tore from Snart's throat despite him obviously trying to muffle it.

Oliver's eyes widened as he stuttered to a stop in front of Felicity. He looked at the last remaining coat rack between him and where that sound had come from. "Are you serious right now?" he called out, while shooting Felicity a disbelieving look for her standing there as if anything about this was innocent. "Can't you two keep your hands off of each other for two minutes?"

Snart's moans increased in volume since they'd been caught, but Barry was the one who answered.

"Where'd the fun be in that?"

Oliver groaned. "Well you better finish off quickly, Barry, because you need to be on stage in five minutes."

"I think we can finish in two," Barry said, as devious as Snart usually sounded, and Snart laughed in the wake of it as if very proud of his speedster for daring.

Felicity tried not to smile, she really did, but they were too adorable. And hot. So very hot. " _You_ got an eyeful once," she said, when Oliver looked at her pointedly.

"It's not meant to be a competition. Though at this point," he called out louder at Snart and Barry again, "is there anyone who hasn't seen you two?"

"Well…if you wanted to send Raymond in here…" Snart called back leadingly.

" _Hey_ ," Barry complained, as if highly offended by the notion.

"Please, Scarlet, like you don't enjoy being _watched_ …"

Felicity kept her eyes on Oliver, and saw the exact moment when he was tempted, so very tempted to part the coats and take a peek for himself as the cumulative moans of the pair grew louder and more frequent. Then he shook his head and snatched Felicity's hand.

"Come on," he said, pulling her through the maze of coats. "Before I do something I'll regret."

Damn. So close.

* * *

Len straightened his tie after a fierce glance from Felicity had indicated it was still in disarray, then let his attention stray to Barry up on stage. Kid didn't look flustered at all standing up there with Caitlin and Cisco, as Raymond introduced them to speak about the direction STAR Labs would be taking that year. Barry looked confident, happy, at home. Though maybe that was because his eyes remained trained on Len the entire time.

Caitlin shot Len a glare, but he pointedly ignored it.

"What are you grinning about?" Lisa asked from beside him.

He glanced at her, seeing Sara just behind her, who stood by Iris, who stood next to Felicity clutching Oliver's arm. All of them were giving him rather dirty looks, but he didn't care. He'd had the right kind of dirty all night long, and had gotten exactly what he wanted.

He shrugged at all of them and whispered to his sister, "Nothing."

* * *

TBC...


	13. I want you to spread 'em

**I know you have all waited a million years for this, and I'm actually two months behind getting this up in time for the year anniversary of the fic, but there will be more, and I thank you for all of your support with this fic.**

* * *

While strolling into the downtown precinct amongst CCPD's finest wasn't Len's most sensible idea, it was arguably safer to do so now, decked out in a stolen officer's uniform, than it had been a year ago.

He was no longer top of the city's most wanted list. Most people thought he was either dead or had skipped town some time ago. Little did the average citizen know that he was usually gallivanting through time, helping save the city side by side with The Flash and other members of their extended family, or lying low at home, snuggled up with his boyfriend—who also happened to be his nemesis.

Len could hardly believe some days everything that had transpired since that fateful day when he'd been bored enough to sneak into the police station to see Barry—to tease him, though exactly how he'd ended up teasing him hadn't been part of the plan. Opportunity had presented itself, and Len was nothing if not prudent. A simple touch in the back of a dark room had led to the best sex of Len's life over the successive months.

And to the love of his life.

Len kept his head down as he traipsed past officers and detectives alike, several he recognized, many of whom would have likely recognized him if they got a good enough look, on his way to Barry's lab. He risked taking in a cursory glance around the precinct if only to locate West—and stay as far away from him as possible. He and Joe got along fine, but Len would be made the second the detective caught sight of him.

He'd been counting down the days to this moment, and he did not want to be interrupted. He didn't think Barry realized; didn't expect the kid to have kept track of the exact day their public tryst started, but Len knew. Today was one year exactly since all of this began.

"Got that new sample from the Cho case for me? Just put it in my inbox," Barry said, barely looking at Len when he entered the lab, which—huh, was arranged differently from how Len had imagined it. He thought Barry used the lab alone, but there was a second desk.

Len tipped his hat up slightly and closed the door behind him. He headed for Barry's desk, waiting for the kid to look up and realize the identity of his visitor. "I bet you say that to all the boys in blue," Len smirked.

Barry frowned as Len came around to the side of his desk and perched on the end of it coyly. As Barry looked up at Len more clearly, his expression brightened with an impossible smile—before the panic set in.

" _Len_ ," Barry hissed, as if someone else might be lurking in the corners of the expansive room and could overhear them, "what are you doing here? Julian will be back from lunch any minute."

"Julian, huh?" Len glanced over his shoulder at the opposite desk. "And why haven't you mentioned having a roommate?"

"He's not a roommate," Barry dismissed, "he…look, he just started earlier this week, and I don't know who pissed in his cheerios, but he doesn't like me very much. He's a meta expert. He could be useful. I'll never make a good impression if he catches _Captain Cold_ in the lab."

Len tiptoed his fingers across the desk to Barry's hand and brushed lightly over his wrist. "And what kind of impression do you think you'd make if he caught you—"

" _No_." Barry yanked both hands from the desk and pushed back in his chair. "Len, we can't. Not in the precinct. We promised Joe. And people come into the lab all the time now. You haven't done something this reckless since…" He trailed, green eyes shimmering with—there it was, a moment of calculation to determine the months, his miraculous brain working faster than a normal human's could to come to the conclusion that yes indeed, it was their anniversary. "Has it really been—"

"A year?" Len pushed from the desk and moved toward Barry, not pausing or giving Barry any time to counter his actions as he straddled the kid's waist and climbed on. "It has. And what a year it's been. I figured we should celebrate." He let his weight pin Barry to the chair and draped his arms around the kid's neck.

Barry's hands settled at Len's hips. He was already growing flushed, and licked his lips with eagerness, probably remembering the first time in the precinct while fighting mostly halfheartedly to banish his smile. "We couldn't celebrate at home with dinner, a movie, and sex _in bed_ like a normal couple?"

"Come now, Scarlet," Len purred, diving in close to feel Barry's breath on his lips, "have we ever been normal?"

Barry snickered, said, "Well…" but Len kissed the reply right out of his mouth. It was getting chillier outside lately, but Barry was always wonderfully warm, thrumming with the lightning in his veins, the polar opposite of Len in so many ways. Ice and lightning, that was them, and instead of clashing they complemented each other like a chemical reaction.

Len hummed and flicked his tongue at Barry's lips. "I'm going to let you up now. I want you to spread 'em like you're about to be frisked. I'll handle the rest."

"Len," Barry said, trying to hang onto him and keep him in his lap when Len rolled his hips once and then swung his leg around to get up, "we don't have time for that. I'd love to, I really would, but—"

"Resisting arrest, Allen?" Len tipped his hat with a wink, then snatched Barry's hand and pulled him from the chair. "We can save the finale for later. But I am going to honor our anniversary by making you come unbeknownst to your colleagues just like I did last year. Now…spread 'em…and do as you're told." He led Barry out from behind the desk, spun him to face the side of it so that the lean, long, line of his back faced Len—and the door—and waited for the kid to comply.

Of course he did. He laughed, and shivered, and went along with the game, leaning forward to press his hands to the desk as he spread his long legs apart wider than shoulder width, and waited. "You are a terrible influence."

"Yep. And you love it."

Len brought his hands to Barry's hips, sliding them sensually down his thighs like the parody of a pat-down. Around to the front and up his inner thighs, grazing the crease of his hips, then to the back to smooth down the curve of his ass. To the front once more, up Barry's chest, then down his stomach—down, down—until his palms reached the telling bulge starting to form and he cupped it gently. Squeezed.

"S-Sorry, Officer," Barry said, already breathless. "Forgot to mention my Conceal and Carry."

Len snorted. "Punishment should fit the crime, kid. Better behave or I'll have to take you in." He moved his hands up to the button on Barry's slacks, undid them, drew down the zipper, and slid the fabric down his hips. They fell easily to Barry's ankles. He had on a new pair of boxer briefs, teal with black trim. Len pressed his hands to Barry's ass, which felt so much nicer with only thin fabric separating their skin.

"Len, if someone catches us…" Barry said, even as he pushed back into Len's touch.

"Like that's ever stopped us before." Len pulled in close so his lips grazed Barry's ear, as one hand slid beneath the elastic of Barry's underwear and felt the soft skin of a tantalizing cheek. "We'll hear the door. No one was nearby when I snuck in. And I'll make it worth your while."

"Yeah…?" Barry pushed back harder, spread his legs wider.

"Oh yeah." Len slipped his other hand into Barry's shorts in kind, bare ass beneath his palms, and used his leverage to slip the underwear down until they caught at Barry's knees. Len felt up the naked skin of Barry's hips, teasing forward slowly toward the heat between his legs. He slid his fingers forward, dancing just out of reach, thumbs barely grazing the bob of Barry's length growing hard in expectation.

"L-Len…" Barry gasped, when Len brushed the dull edge of his nail all the way up from base to tip.

"Your legs are quaking," Len whispered, kissing behind Barry's ear gently, then flicking his tongue at the delicate lobe. "A good game, a little denial to draw things out," he glided the back of his thumbnail slowly down, catching the wetness forming as he retraced his path from before, "and the chance of getting caught." Len chuckled and held one hand low at Barry's belly while the other dragged only his fingertips up Barry's skin. "I know what you like."

Barry trembled and pushed back against Len rather than try to buck forward and steal more of his touch. "You do…but if you're not gonna fuck me…and I'm facing the wrong way for you to suck me off…what are you gonna do?" For all his protests about going through with this in the middle of the precinct, Barry's voice sounded playful and familiar in all the best ways.

Len kissed the back of Barry's neck once more, then dropped to his knees behind him. He pulled Barry's underwear the rest of the way down, and took the hat from his head to set it aside on the floor. Len had been looking forward to this all day.

He leaned in and took a bite at one of Barry's cheeks, making the kid hiss in unexpected pleasure.

"I'm gonna make you come without touching you," Len said. "But if you behave, maybe I'll let you touch yourself when you get close. Sound fun?"

A few hesitant noises left Barry, but didn't get the chance to form words before Len fanned out his fingers, spread Barry's cheeks with his thumbs, and dove forward with a long _lick_. Incomprehensible noises were Len's favorite way to hear Barry's voice. He licked the kid slowly, taking his time before he pressed the tip of his tongue inside.

The desk rattled as Barry pounded a fist down on top of it. Even from Len's position, he could tell when Barry tried to inch his hand from the desk.

"Uh, uh, uh," Len scolded him, pulling away. "You move before I give permission, and I'm making a 180 out that door."

" _Len_ ," Barry whined, but flattened his hand to the desktop again and kept both palms stationary.

"Good boy. Like I said, you can pay me back tonight. You'll have all day to think about how to take your revenge."

Barry moaned at the thought, and Len grinned.

They were not a normal couple. Nothing about them had ever been normal, from how this all started, to how they somehow found a way to 'I love you' after months of public fornication, to how even now Barry was a CSI and moonlighting superhero, while Len was a thief who played nice with the white hats when it suited him—when Barry needed him—but had never given up his love of a good score.

Successful relationships were always about the same thing—compromise, however that managed to play out.

Len licked inside Barry deeper, massaging the kid's cheeks with firm divots of his thumbs, symbiotic in how his hands and tongue moved. Barry's position meant he wasn't close enough to the desk to rut forward, and with his hands spread apart, he couldn't touch himself without Len noticing. He just had to wait, dripping, _pulsing_ , never knowing when Len would offer reprieve.

"Imagine if I was fucking you," Len said, pulling his tongue free to give another tender lick, "right here on your desk. Mmm, the noises you'd make. Make some of those noises now, Barry, and maybe I'll have mercy on you." He pushed his tongue in deeper than before, and Barry groaned. He had the loveliest voice when he was wrecked.

"Len…" he gasped, hands twitching to move, legs shaking from being spread apart.

"Imagine all those officers out there who think of you as innocent, baby-faced Allen," Len said, moving his hands around to massage into Barry's hips where his thighs connected and that gorgeous V made an inviting runway to the prize. "Imagine them watching you like this…all open and begging for it."

"Only…only from _you_ ," Barry said, and pounded the desk again when Len slid his tongue in once more and licked in deep like he was kissing Barry's mouth.

"Damn right," Len gruffed out when he finally rose to his feet again. He hugged Barry around the waist then let one hand travel up to play across his chest through his button down, while the other drifted low to tease at the wetness left behind. "Wanna touch yourself, Barry?"

Barry's hips rocked forward. "Please…"

"Do it. Let me see you."

Barry pushed up from leaning over the desk, and Len held him in place against him with one hand snaked around his front, and the other trapped between them. He watched over Barry's shoulder as the kid curled slender fingers around his length and tugged, slowly at first, sagging into Len in his relief. Len let the hand between them, with a teasing finger already trailing through how wet Len had left Barry, shift and twist until one long digit pressed inside, deeper than his tongue had reached.

Barry trembled as his own hand began to move faster. With every twist of Len's finger, Barry's pace picked up, until Len pressed a second finger inside and Barry's hand started to blur. He became indistinct in his vibrations until, finally, he came in a spurt over his hand, some escaping onto the edge of his desk.

Len kept his fingers right where they were, scissoring, stretching Barry. "What a mess you've made. Maybe I'll have to take you in anyway," Len rumbled, and dragged his fingers along the sweet spot.

Barry whimpered.

The door clicked open, and while Barry normally might have been speedy enough to fix his state of debaucherous undress before anyone saw him, he tended to need a minute in the afterglow before his reflexes caught back up to snuff.

"Good lord!" an unfamiliar, English-accented voice declared before either of them could do more than stiffen and stand up straighter. "Allen?!"

"Shit," Barry cursed beneath his breath, frantically reaching back to clean his hand on Len's pant leg, which normally Len would have grimaced over, but he had caused all of this, after all.

Len made a concerted effort to bend down to retrieve his hat without turning to face this newcomer, while Barry scrambled to pull up his lost shorts and pants.

"Fraternizing with an officer on the job, in the lab, where you probably just contaminated god only knows what," the man Len could only assume was Julian said as he flew into a tirade. "Indecent exposure, not to mention highly unprofessional, Allen. I'll have to file a complaint about this."

Barry whirled around after doing up his pants, spared a moment to glare at Len, then addressed Julian over Len's shoulder. "Are you really going to write up a report to Captain Singh about finding me like _that_?"

"I don't plan to go into detail," the man huffed, "but lewd acts in the lab should be more than enough to warrant some sort of action. And I thought a general lackadaisical attitude, coming in late constantly, leaving at all hours, and nosing into my cases would be the end of it."

Hn. No wonder Barry had been antsy about pleasing this guy. Sounded like a dick, only too happy to jump at the chance to get Barry in trouble.

"Julian, wait!" Barry called, pushing past Len, but the sound of the door slamming shut stopped him short. "Thanks, Len," Barry grumbled, arms folded with an adorable pout on his face when Len turned to face him. "Now Julian really hates me."

Len shrugged. "Probably just jealous."

Barry cast him a skeptical look. "He didn't even see your face, and you're fully covered."

"I didn't mean jealous of you." Len moved into Barry's body and flicked his eyes down and back up again to drive home how much of Barry he enjoyed.

Barry's skeptical look turned up a notch to downright comical. "No way."

"Surprised? I doubt I'm the only one who wants a bite out of that ass."

Laughter bubbled out of Barry despite his best efforts to keep his scowl, and his hands dropped to his sides in defeat. "You are the worst."

Len grinned, wrapped his arms around Barry's neck like he had in the chair, and pulled him in close. "I love you too, Scarlet."

The frustration fled from Barry's expression. Even Captain Cold could melt the stalwart hero instead of icing him on occasion. "I love you too, Len," he said, circling his arms around Len's waist and holding tight. "Enough for a whole year of crazy, apparently."

A year. That was a milestone for both of them. "Happy anniversary, Barry. You can still treat me to dinner, a movie, and sex when we get home later. But in a bed? Hmm…" he ducked closer to the kid and kissed his lips briefly, "maybe we should revisit memory lane a bit more instead. Could be a fun marathon."

Barry gaped at Len's implications, but then a wicked grin spread across his face. "Remember Bruce?"

"Your gargoyle friend?"

"Forget going home. Meet me there at 6pm."

Len tilted his head. "Same roof?"

"You go to Bruce's roof. I'll be on the other one. This time you can be the one to put on a show," Barry whispered deviously beside Len's ear.

Len quivered at the thought. He knew sneaking into the precinct would be worth it. "It's a date. See ya later, Red. I'll be thinking of you _all_ … _day_." He pressed the hard line of his erection against Barry's thigh so he'd feel how eager Len was, how unsatisfied while Barry had gotten off.

Later Barry would help him take care of that like no one else ever had. They kissed, slow, and deep, and promising of what would come later.

When Len pulled from Barry's arms and turned to leave, he tipped his hat and said, "Allen."

"Officer," Barry played along.

Len passed who he assumed was a sullen Julian on his way out—since he hadn't actually seen the guy—and thought maybe the young man cast him too nosy of a sidelong glance and might have pegged him, but then he merely shook his head and walked on past.

When Len caught sight of Joe near the exit, he couldn't resist giving the detective a small salute, which earned him a very unamused yet unsurprised glower.

* * *

TBC...

I seriously adore Julian, I couldn't resist adding him to my weird AU that takes SO MANY canon liberties. But I figured I couldn't jump straight to him and Barry getting along.

Comments are love! And help to feed the muse.


	14. I wanna see you as a cowboy, Sherriff

**And I went a million years between chapters again. Sorry! I'm just hard at work on the original version of Lovesick, and I've been making wonderful progress.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Barry and Len have an entertaining evening of dress-up and role-play in the Fabricator room of the Waverider.**

* * *

Barry hadn't gotten much of a tour of the Waverider when he initially had the opportunity to look around. His first time on board he'd been laid up in the med bay for most of his stay, injured, and then, well…preoccupied with Len reminding him how much he worried about Barry by screwing him on top of Rip's chair.

The second chance Barry had had to look around, he'd declined, since it was while they were facing the Dominators, and he knew Cisco and Felicity would be much more helpful going back in time with the Legends than him.

Apparently, Barry had the potential power to alter more than just pieces of the timeline. If he tempted fate too many times, he could change the entirety of their reality in one giant ripple effect. He'd only ever changed minor events so far, but because of Eobard's tampering with the timeline, the Dominators feared Barry could be worse. Really, they just couldn't get their hands on the villain, while Barry was more of a public figure—Eo was the menace not The Flash!

But it had all worked out, with their varied crews banding together to come up with a plan that did not involve Barry sacrificing himself—which Len still gave him a hard time about, since that's what Barry had suggested.

"You sacrificed yourself for _your_ team, Len."

"Yeah, and I got lucky. What if I hadn't, huh? What if that had been it for me?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I would have done…"

"Exactly. It's the same for me."

Finally, this time being on the Waverider, Barry didn't have to rush because of a mission. There _was_ a mission, but they were in limbo for the time being. Barry had been invited on board because the Legends were going after the Legion of Doom, as Nate had dubbed them—or maybe it was catalogued in some history book, Barry wasn't sure—and they needed a speedster to go after a speedster.

Even though at one point in time, Barry had negated Eobard's very existence, The Reverse Flash from the future timeline still existed, and he was after something big, big enough that he'd recruited the worst of the worst—Malcolm Merlin and Damien Darkh.

There wasn't much they could do until Gideon informed them of the next distortion to the time stream, or if Nate pinpointed the locations of the remaining pieces of the Spear of Destiny before their enemies did. Barry would be needed when that time came, but in the meantime he got a little vacation with Len aboard his seriously awesome time ship.

"You know, I could put you to work," Sara said, arms crossed but with a smirk on her lips. Barry wasn't sure when it had happened, but she seemed to be as much the leader of the Legends as Rip lately, maybe even more so. "Your speed could help Jax with some enhancements he's been working on. Or that engineering brain could assist Ray—"

"And you can totally put me to work with all of those things," Barry said brightly, " _after_ a night of enjoying myself? Please?" He turned his best puppy expression on her, but her raised eyebrow indicated she was likely immune to such tactics.

Still, she caved, probably only teasing Barry anyway. "One night," she said. "Though I expect you'll be on your best behavior?"

Len of course chose that moment to walk into the room and grinned at Barry coyly as if he knew exactly what both of them were thinking.

"Never," Barry said.

Sara laughed. "Good."

Of course they were well behaved around the others. There were things to discuss and people to catch up with. They all ate dinner together in the mess hall just off the kitchen, but when everyone started to part ways again, Barry latched onto Len and demanded a proper tour.

They ran into some of the others during the walk around the ship, enjoying a casual evening just being in each other's company, but when they got to what Len deemed the finale, no one else was around. They hadn't ended at Len's bunk like Barry expected.

"What's this for?" he asked when Len led him inside the narrow but good-sized room, with a handful of stations that looked like advanced 3D printers surrounded by glass.

"I believe Cisco called it 'the room of requirement'," Len leaned against one of the stations and tapped the outer casing.

Barry could barely contain the jolt of excitement that nearly set him to vibrating. "This is the Fabricator room?" His eyes widened with glee as he took in the station Len was presenting him with. "Can we really make anything? I may have enjoyed playing dress-up with Iris a little too much when we were younger."

"You were ten when you moved in with the Wests," Len raised an eyebrow at him.

"So? Double digits is too old for dress up? We dress up every night!" Barry laughed.

Len's genuine smile was infectious. "And here I thought you'd want to make something to play with and instead you want another costume. Won't Cisco be jealous?"

"I'll fabricate him a perfect grade Gundam model kit and he'll forgive me." Barry raked his eyes down Len's body. He looked good in anything, but there was something special about Len's black sweater, thermal pants, and kilt. Still… "I wanna see you as a cowboy, Sherriff."

Len erupted with laughter. He tapped the station he was leaning against again as he pushed away from it. "That outfit is already in Gideon's memory. Maybe we can pick out something for you to match. Feeling in a role play mood, Scarlet?" His grin twisted mischievously.

Barry felt warm flutters low in his stomach as Len stalked toward him like a hungry predator. "Maybe. Or I just want to dress you up." He hummed as he imagined all the possibilities. "Something with a fedora. Or a new kilt! Only a kilt? Or—"

"Why don't we explore our options?" Len held up a hand to prevent Barry from divulging too many fantasies at once, ever the more deliberate and patient of the two of them.

Barry was giddy with the prospects. It felt like the sort of night where they should have started out drinking and ended up in the Fabricator room buzzed and silly like teenagers, but the loss of inhibitions came without anything to loosen them up other than each other's company.

Len made a really sexy cowboy in mostly all black. Barry expected his boyfriend to make something similar for him, but instead Len handed him clothing a store clerk or doctor of the era would have worn, with a vest, bowtie, and rounded glasses that made Barry think of his Earth-2 counterpart.

He frowned down at himself after getting dressed at Flash speed. "What's the idea?"

Len leaned back against the Fabricator again, just as casually gorgeous in his cowboy getup as anything else. "I know what I like," he tipped his hat at Barry.

"Yet you turned down my offer for a threesome." Barry mock-pouted at him.

"You were angling for a _foursome_ ," Len scowled, dangerous and menacing beneath the brim of his hat, "and me and Citizen Cold don't share."

Barry pouted with a touch more seriousness. He'd never thought he'd be turned on by the prospect of, well, himself. He'd always wondered about multiple partners but couldn't get passed the jealousy aspect. He didn't like to share either. But with other versions of themselves, who were also a couple, somehow it didn't carry the same reservations for him.

"Seems like you're considering it more than you were before," Barry said as he slowly slid the glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

Len tilted his head appraisingly but didn't say anything. Instead, now that they were both dressed, he started to approach Barry with steady, insistent steps, backing him up into a corner until Barry hit the wall with a jolt. He hadn't meant to stumble away, Len just had so much presence as a character from the Wild West. He had presence wearing boxer briefs with snowflakes on them.

"Sorry, doc," Len said with an exaggerator version of his Captain Cold drawl, "but I'm afraid you owe me for the outlaws I've been keeping off your back, and money ain't what I'm interested in."

Barry giggled before fixing his face to be more stern and spouted back, "You're a scoundrel, Sheriff. Worst of the worst. But if that's the only thing to appease you…" He ducked his head forward to kiss Len and held onto him tightly, enjoying the feel of the gun at Len's side pressing into his hip. He was pretty sure it was a gun, but even if Len was already keyed up and hard, Barry had no plans to end this quickly.

He almost gave in when Len lifted one of his legs with a strong hand beneath his thigh and pressed into him firmly, but Barry twisted his fingers in the collar of Len's duster and held him back.

"Wait. Let's make this a game," he whispered hot against Len's lips.

"I'm listening," Len husked back.

"Neither of us can come until I say we're done playing dress-up."

Len pinned Barry tighter into the corner and squeezed his thigh possessively. "Bet I can get you to say 'uncle' by costume three."

"No way," Barry countered, "but I bet I'll have you begging to call it quits before we hit five."

"What does the winner get?"

"Whatever they want."

Len sealed the deal with another kiss but obeyed Barry's directive and slowly lowered his leg, moving his hands to Barry's waist instead.

They made out against the wall for a few breathless minutes, but as good as Len looked in all black with a bandana around his neck, cowboy hat, and duster, Barry had several more ideas to play with before he was willing to give in to his passions.

"What should we wear next?" he asked, one hand trailing his fingers along the outline of Len's gun, the other teasing that he might reach for something more worthwhile.

"You wanted a cowboy," Len said. "How about you give me a pirate?"

Barry stared into Len's blown black eyes, dark with arousal, thoroughly impressed and thrilled that Len was as into this as he was. But then…of course Len was. He liked to play dress-up too. "Does that mean you'll be my wench? Ooo, or Princess Buttercup?" Barry said excitedly.

Len chuckled low. "However you want me."

Barry had had a serious crush on the Dread Pirate Roberts when he was younger, more so than Buttercup, to be honest. But since he wanted that costume for himself, he decided to have Gideon make something closer to Wesley's original costume from The Princess Bride for Len, with a beige peasant shirt loosely tied at the top, letting some of his tattoos peek out.

Who knows what the original Dread Pirate Robert's had gotten up to with Wesley before he passed on the torch?

With his own shirt quite similar to Len's but in black like the rest of his costume, complete with mask and headscarf, Barry felt a thrill run through him at playing the role of a different kind of masked hero—more like anti-hero, or at least a hero disguised as a villain.

Now Barry was the one pressing Len into the corner. "I'll likely kill you in the morning," he said and licked the rim of Len's ear. "Better make tonight count."

"As you wish," Len said with a sweet yet somehow still heated smile.

Barry immediately started to untuck the tunic top so he could drop to his knees and push the shirt up past Len's naval. He licked from the start of his treasure trail to his bellybutton. "Now, be a good slave boy and hold still, and maybe I'll let you suck my cock later," he said, hands covered in black like the rest of him but still pawing greedily at Len's hips and ass.

"If you make me come, I still win," Len said, knees crooked as he leaned into the wall, panting. "This is only costume two."

"Mmm…can't have that." Barry squeezed Len's hips again and licked his lips as he stared at the straining slacks before him but refrained from going for the prize just yet. He blinked hazily up at Len from beneath his mask, which wasn't too different from most nights. "What next?"

"I came up with pirate. Your turn," Len said, pleased and smug despite having been on the receiving end of Barry's teasing.

Barry slid his hands up Len's stomach again. "I want to see you in uniform, soldier."

"An Officer and a Gentleman?"

"They aren't supposed to be mutually exclusive," Barry chuckled.

"Who says we're playing by any rules?" Len pushed the headscarf from Barry's head and tangled his fingers in the wild tuffs of his hair. "I want you in a suit. Tie, vest, the works. As for me…which branch?

"Marine. Definitely." Barry stood swiftly and tugged Len from the wall by the waist of his slacks.

And oh, did Len look good all buttoned up in dress blues, gold buttons gleaming, with a white cap fitted on his head. Barry bit his lip as he took in the white gloves to finish it off and Len's playful smirk.

Barry didn't usually do three-piece suits, but Len had been very specific to Gideon about the brand and tailoring and color scheme. White shirt, light grey suit and vest with a fine fabric grain like heather, and a deep burgundy tie.

"All I wanted was a drink at the airport bar before shipping out, and I had to meet you." Len gripped Barry by his tie the second he turned around changed and slammed him against the nearest Fabricator station.

"All I did was buy a soldier a drink," Barry played along, hands raised in surrender.

"And how are you going to follow up that offer?" Len stepped in close, boxing Barry against the glass. "Gonna have to make you pay a little for stringing me along when we both have flights to board on a ticking clock. Maybe I have my way with you right here while keeping you clothed." Something flashed in Len's eyes that spoke of how much he enjoyed this particular fantasy. He loosened the tie from around Barry's neck and started to pull it free. Once he had it, he used it to tie Barry's hands together in front of him.

"Right here in the bathroom?" Barry glanced around, adding to the scene. "Someone's bound to catch us."

"Good thing you're keeping your clothes on then," Len said, and took off his hat to set it atop Barry's head instead. He undid the first few buttons on his jacket but then leaned forward and started to kiss down Barry's neck. Barry pressed his hands forward against Len's stomach, but Len pulled back and tsked. "Uh uh uh. You're tied up. No touching. No relief."

"I win if you don't make it to five," Barry reminded him.

"I don't plan on losing," Len said.

Len returned to Barry's neck, down and then up again to the delicate skin of his ear. He held one hand to Barry's chest and let the other trail downward, gently running over the front of his slacks. Barry's hands twitched to do something and he ached to thrust forward, but he knew Len would only chide him again and move away.

He let Len give careful attentions to his neck and down his chest as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, all the while palming him through his slacks with too little pressure to give him what he wanted. Just when Barry finally thought Len was going to keep going, their bet be damned, both hands moved to Barry's slacks to undo them…but then pulled back.

"That's my flight. Guess I'll see ya around."

"What?" Barry blinked, cheeks flushed and breath heavy. "No, it…it's my flight too! Mile high club?"

Len grinned. "While I like that ending to the story, the real us have more costumes to get to."

Barry groaned in displeasure, but a continuation of the game meant he got to set the rules for the next round, though technically it was Len's turn to choose. He mulled over what he might want as Len untied his hands. He really did look good in uniform, but there were so many wondrous ideas filling Barry's head. "I want to see _you_ in a suit. No—a tux. Super spy versus super villain?"

"So you're my charming homme fatale?" Len pulled slowly on the tie to unravel it from Barry's wrists, backing up a step. "I'm picturing…Falcon in Black Widow's costume."

Barry snorted. Then paused. "Wait. Falcon? Not Hawkeye? Isn't he more her counterpart?"

"As far as pairs go, sure, but Sam's the one you gotta watch out for. If someone isn't careful, a sweet smile and big heart like that'll sweep you right off your feet."

Barry beamed. "Speaking from experience?"

"Absolutely."

Barry moved to steal another kiss from Len, but Len held him at arm's length and bobbed both eyebrows seductively.

"I want to see if you can squeeze into something tighter than your Flash suit," he said.

Barry shivered at being denied and the request. That was going to be difficult given the state of him, but he was game. "Order up, Gideon!" he called.

They'd started a pile in the corner for their discards that would eventually need to be recycled back into the Fabricator, but they could get to that later.

Len changed first, losing the uniform for a classic black tux and bowtie, only instead of a white shirt, that was black as well, which just killed Barry with how slick and sexy it was, he didn't care if it wasn't true James Bond without a white shirt—Len looked good in monochrome.

By the time Len was dressed, Barry had only lost his top half, but now he let his slacks fall away. Holding up the catsuit Gideon had conjured for him, even his snug boxer briefs weren't going to work.

He cast an impish grin at Len before sliding his underwear down his thighs. Barry was overheated and wetter than he'd realized. He wanted to stroke himself through the pressure, but now the game was escalating and he refused to give in.

Len pulled at his bowtie to loosen it, hot under the collar with his eyes taking all of Barry in. They'd both been somewhat deliberate in looking away until now while the other changed.

"Might need your help getting into this," Barry said as he stepped into the legs to begin pulling the catsuit up his calves. "Definitely gonna need your help getting out of it."

He groaned when he had to tuck himself into the suit. It was almost too good, just the right side of painful for him to want to keep going. He got the suit up his thighs, slid his arms in, and zipped it closed along the long line of his body, the vinyl hugging every inch of him. His feet were bare. No gloves. Nothing else yet. But Len wasn't going to give him any time to add such details once he saw the way Barry strained inside the tight vinyl, looking absolutely obscene.

Len rushed him and slammed Barry back against the wall harder than before, holding Barry's shoulders tightly as if they were in mid-fight back in their heyday.

"You're too late, Snart," Barry said, as if he were saying 'Bond', "I already sent the plans to my buyers before you arrived. You can hurt me…but you can't stop me."

"Then I guess I'll have to hurt you," Len said, in such a low, rumbling register, Barry bucked forward before he could stop himself. Pressing into Len's thigh made him moan haggardly at the contact. The suit was too tight. He needed relief.

"Please…" he said.

"You want me to hurt you?"

"If you get this suit off," Barry huffed, "you can do whatever you want to me."

Len's dark blue eyes glittered with danger and desire, which was part of what had drawn Barry to him in the first place. Having it now, all to himself, without any real danger, reminded him of how lucky he was. "I'm gonna have you begging to tell me how to intercept those plans." _Really_ lucky.

Len spun Barry around, and for a moment Barry panicked, because he really did need the suit off, it was starting to hurt more than it was arousing, but then Len's hands snaked around to the front of his body and found the zipper. He drew it down all the way in one swipe and reached in to pull Barry out. Len's cool hands sliding into the warm wetness surrounding Barry felt so…

Wait, no. _Shit._ Barry had sworn it was his turn to be in charge. He couldn't let Len win the game. "N-Not yet…" he panted as Len started to stroke him.

"You sure…?" Len asked.

Barry whined at the feeling of his boyfriend's expert fingers feathering over his slit, but he had to be strong. He whirled back around, dislodging Len's grip. "Professor and student," he said.

Len looked halfway exasperated that Barry's self-control was winning out, but also eager to try another go. "Make it…prep school uniform and you're on."

Len loved putting Barry in anything with red accents. He stipulated a white shirt, black blazer with red trim, and a black and red tie, while Barry put Len in another suit but simpler this time with a sweater vest and black framed glasses. If Len thought Barry looked good in specs like his Earth-2 doppelganger, he had no idea how hot he looked in a pair himself.

While Barry was on that train of thought, he decided to change out Len's tie for a bowtie, just to get back at him a little. He couldn't have realized how much that would backfire on him, because Len looked sexy as hell with a touch of nerdiness about him. He was a nerd anyway, so it seemed fitting.

The Fabricator room had a table they hadn't put to use yet. Barry backed Len against it now, on the prowl until he had Len leaned back with both hands pressed to the table on either side of his hips.

"I'd step back, Allen," Len said, pushing up his glasses and taking on an air of flustered authority. "This sort of behavior isn't going to change my decision about your grade."

 _God_ , Barry loved this man. "Maybe I don't care about grades," he said, wearing a leering smirk as he played the part of bad boy, smug and sarcastic like Len would be. "Maybe all I want is to feel some heat between my thighs. Better yet, I'll suck you off right here and you can still fail me."

Barry dropped to his knees with Len propped back against the table. Finally, he could see how hard Len was, how strained and wet he'd become, already leaking through the new costume. Barry undid his slacks and pulled him out, then, without giving Len any time to object, he took him into his mouth.

Len was a ridiculously good actor when he put his mind to it. Even his moans sounded scandalized, the older teacher not wanting to give in to his student's advances but helpless against the allure of what he did to him. "We can't," Len said, even as he dug his fingers into Barry's hair and gently guided him, tugging with a familiar strength and rhythm.

Barry swiped out his tongue. "Your mouth says stop, but you're holding me close for seconds. Which is it, Professor? If you want me to go…" He rocked back onto his heels and batted his eyelashes, but he only had to wait a scant breath before Len acted.

He hauled Barry up by the collar of his suit coat and whirled him around, repositioning them so Len's weight pinned Barry to the table. He kissed him fiercely then sucked down his neck harder than he had as a Marine, moving as he did to get Barry's various buttons undone.

"That's what I thought," Barry said in character, haughty and self-assured. "You wanna fuck me, Professor? I won't tell anyone."

"You make it so hard to resist, Allen," Len said, getting Barry's jacket and shirt open and moving down for the button of his slacks.

Barry grinned at the pun. Besides, he hadn't put his underwear on after the catsuit. No point. So Len's hand found him slick and ready.

"I hate losing," Len growled, nosing Barry's neck like he wanted to stay there all night. "Got so many ideas swimming around, but I'm fit to bursting here, Scarlet. Who knew you still had unknown talents for me to discover."

Barry chuckled deviously. Using his speed, he flipped them again in a flash and pushed Len's button down and sweater vest up before tugging his already open slacks further down his thighs. Len always felt so good in Barry's palm. "I like keeping you guessing," he said. "Besides, we're vague on the details about now anyway. Let's say we both win. You can do anything you want to me, Len," he smiled wide, "but I want to hear about those ideas of yours."

Len's laugh when he was this turned on and blissed out was hypnotic and made Barry pulse in anticipation. He stroked Len in time to subtle ruts against Len's thigh. "Mmm…Pretty Woman? Businessman picks up a rent boy he slowly falls in love with. 'Course I'd want you in thigh-highs and a mini skirt," he winked.

Barry was hardly shocked by the request. "Remind me to show you pictures of my first Halloween at college sometime." Because he could definitely still surprise Len.

"Yeah?" Len scanned his eyes down Barry's mostly bare skin.

Barry shrugged. "Got drunk before the party and didn't have a lot of friends, so I decided to make a splash. Plus, I can totally rock thigh highs and a mini skirt, and you know it. You've seen these legs."

Len slapped the side of Barry's thigh to prove he had and he loved every inch of them.

"We can do that next time," Barry said. "I'd want you wearing the suit I first saw you in. When you went for the diamond? Fuck, you looked good that day. I'd get in a sports car with that man free of charge."

Len's voice was growing rough as Barry's hand fell away and he shifted so that their hips were better aligned to grind together. "I'd certainly hope so, Scarlet…though I'm sure I could arrange for a sports car."

Barry giggled, all pretense of their role playing long gone. "Anything else?"

"For costumes? Well…" Len flicked his eyes down and back up Barry's body again. "You do seem to have a fetish for my kilt. Love to put you in it sometime."

"Only that?"

"Maybe a school girl uniform would suit you better."

"Your legs would look great in that too," Barry nodded mindlessly as his hips picked up the pace, "but the kilt is especially hot."

Len hoisted Barry further up the table so he could lie back without the edge poking him. "Maybe I'd rather see you in my parka. You've been in that with nothing else before…but the full costume would be..." his eyes went distant as he finished, "…something else."

They both stopped as that thought percolated between them. The entire evening had been about role reversal after all.

Barry was so close, just a few more jerks of his hips and he'd be done. Len had to be in a similar state.

And yet…

"Gideon…can you make a replica of my Flash suit to fit Len's measurements?" Barry stilled his hips as he called up at the ceiling.

"Certainly, Mr. Allen."

Len eyed him with a sparkle in his blue depths, chest heaving and yet with no sign of dissention in his expression. "Only if you put on my full gear to match."

"You're on," Barry agreed.

They pried themselves away from each other, equally wobbly on their legs once they dropped down from the table, a complete disheveled mess and ready to pop. Gideon made the order quickly as they peeled off their most recent costumes to change one last time.

Even though both of them were near tortured with how ready they were to move beyond foreplay, it was so worth it to see Len in head-to-toe tripolimer. He was broader than Barry with more muscles in his forearms and thighs. Barry was also completely biased in thinking that a peek of Len's handsome face beneath the cowl was far sexier than his own, though Len would probably deny that. His eyes looked electric against all that red.

Barry, for his part, felt sillier in Len's parka and goggles than in anything they'd worn so far, even though it was mostly just a sweater, thermal pants, boots, and gloves. The cold gun was put away in Len's bunk, so Gideon had made a non-working replica.

The quick change had helped Barry to delay the inevitable, but he was still hard inside the tight pants, and seeing Len in his costume only made it worse. He aimed the gun with a smirk as they circled each other around the perimeter of the Fabricator room.

"Gotcha now, Flash," Barry said with a familiar drawl.

"Think so?" Len made an effort to drop his own. "What if I've got _you_?" He hunkered down like he was about to run at Barry, and Barry got an idea he couldn't pass up.

He used his speed to sprint forward first, grabbed onto Len, and positioned them so that it appeared as though Barry was the one being pushed into the wall. They came out of the whirlwind with Len's hands fisted in Barry's parka, while the cold gun clattered to the floor.

Barry pulled on a startled face, while Len blinked in surprise for only a moment before he grinned and stepped in closer.

"Too slow," he said.

Barry fixed his expression into as close to a Len-like smirk as he could manage and raised a challenging eyebrow. "Whatever will you do with me?"

Len practically growled as he pressed forward, his hardness through the Flash suit very apparent against Barry's thigh. "I have an idea…"

"Do tell, Scarlet?" Barry purred.

Len broke for a moment with a short chuckle and shook his head, but then he recovered and fell back into the role of being The Flash. "Recreating our first time. In that alley. When Hartley was watching us," he said in a soft whisper.

Barry knew exactly how that would play out with them dressed like this—with Barry pinned to the wall as Len had been that day. He drew the goggles from his eyes. "Guess I better start eating brick then," he said, and when Len nodded and let him go, Barry turned to face the wall.

Len didn't waste time undoing the thermal pants and shoving them down Barry's hips. Barry heard the tell-tale sound of zipper teeth separating as Len undid the Flash suit, and then he felt the press of skin at his backside. Len's fingers teased along his cheeks, before he paused to ask, "Gideon, can you…help us along?"

"Certainly, Mr…Allen," she responded—and it really should have weirded Barry out that Gideon was playing along, and that she understood exactly what Len wanted without elaboration, but he was too horny to care.

The Fabricator station next to them glowed through the glass. Barry couldn't see what Len retrieved from it, but he could imagine. Soon, he felt slicked fingers probing him right where he wanted them.

"Wait til you feel the rest of me," Len said with a smile in his voice that brought Barry right back to that day in the alley. How did Len remember so clearly what Barry had said? Barry remembered the events, but the words mostly revolved around them changing positions when the brick proved too unforgiving. And then, well…the rest sort of turned his brain to happy mush.

He moaned rather than try to think of any of the things Len had said to him. He was so loose and open from their foreplay and frequent romps throughout the week that he didn't require much stretching to be ready for Len. "I'm good," he grunted into the wall, pressing back against Len's fingers. "Good enough. Come _on_."

The moment Len's fingers retracted, Barry turned around to face him. Len looked good as The Flash, but he was a whole new shade of sinful with the cowl drawn back and the suit unzipped to his groin where he was already sliding on a condom.

Barry wasn't sure if Len had the strength to lift him up the wall. They were roughly the same size, and Len didn't have superpowers.

"Might need you to hold some of your own weight…but I got this," Len said, delving easily into Barry's thoughts.

He swooped forward, hooked his arms securely beneath Barry's thighs, and lifted. Barry could tell it was a strain for him, but leaned into the wall, Barry was able to support plenty of his body to ease the burden. He spread open so easily for Len as he seated himself.

They paused in the connection and Barry remembered that this was the moment all those months ago when they realized how screwed they were.

Their first kiss.

"Wow do I love you," Barry couldn't help saying as he looked into Len's eyes and held his face.

"Love you too, kid," Len said, gentler than most people thought him capable of.

They kissed just like that day, deep and more concerned with the clash of their tongues than the connection of their hips—at least for a moment. That moment was sweet and soft and everything Barry loved about Len. But when they pulled apart, their connection was rekindled and Len thrust up into him to make him moan.

That too—that was why Barry loved Leonard Snart, because he got to have the man and the Rogue all in one.

Neither of them was going to last long after the costumes and the teasing and the denial. Barry could feel himself close after only a few thrusts, which was a good thing, because Len's arms were shaking within minutes, though he'd never admit defeat out loud. This position drove Len in so deep, Barry trembled, overheated in the parka but loving every minute of it.

When Len came, he pounded a fist against the wall as if in triumph, face filled with such relief, he looked ready to fall into Barry and collapse. But instead he smirked, because Barry hadn't followed after him yet.

"I got ya, Scarlet," he said, "just not sure I can offer what you gave me that day."

Barry looked at Len's sweat-sheened face, his glassy eyes, then glanced up at the low ceiling of the room. They were positioned beside one of the stations just right for Barry to notice some leverage he could put to good use. "I think we can make it a team effort," he said as he nodded upward.

Len looked, saw the metal bar just close enough for Barry to reach up and grab it, and chuckled even as he pushed himself to his limit to lift Barry just a little higher.

Barry grabbed onto the bar, which felt plenty sturdy, and pulled himself up until Len was free of most of his body weight and able to settle him on his shoulders. Barry barely had time to adjust to the new position before he felt himself drawn in to the warmth of Len's mouth.

" _Fuck_ ," he gasped. Being up like that, in Len's face, _devoured_ , was far hotter than he expected. No wonder Len had looked so wrecked after the alley. Barry was going to come in seconds.

"Good lord!"

And he did, hips stuttering regardless of Rip Hunter's voice interrupting his much deserved climax.

It really was like their first time, Barry couldn't help laughing to himself, too content to care about anything other than making sure he didn't go limp and topple them both. With Len's help, he slid slowly down the front of his lover until his feet touched the ground.

" _Mr. Snart_ ," Rip's voice came immediately, "must you…Mr. Snart?" he said with more confusion as he no doubt entered the room fully and realized that who he thought was who was not exactly accurate.

Barry peered over Len's shoulder to see Rip standing halfway to them, eyes averted but trying to understand what was going on. Then Rip noticed the pile of already used costumes in the corner.

"Oh no, you…you can't be serious. You _didn't_."

Len's shit-eating grin stayed directed right on Barry, so very proud of them both. Neither of them was doing much to cover themselves, though in Len's defense, he'd never fully dropped the Flash suit from his shoulders so it wasn't as if Rip had a view of his ass.

"I think we broke him," Barry snickered.

" _Mr. Allen_ ," Rip said with more rancor again, eyes still only just barely looking at them, "I expect better from you. Must you fornicate on every surface of my ship?"

"Haven't gotten to every surface yet, Rip," Len said. "Give us time."

Rip groaned in frustration. "It's bad enough you sullied my chair the last time—"

"You—" Barry felt his face flush hotter, because while he'd gotten less bothered by people stumbling upon them in sexual situations, he'd thought they'd gotten away with that one. "You know about that?"

"Mr. Rory found it humorous to share the footage with me, yes. Couldn't bring myself to sit in the damn thing for a week."

Len's expression proved he'd known all along.

With Len as his shield, Barry reached down to pull up his pants, while Len slid the condom off and chucked it into the Fabricator for recycling. Rip didn't seem to notice, since his eyes were still mostly elsewhere.

"It is highly unsanitary and a waste of resources," he was ranting.

"Gideon doesn't run out of resources," Len droned.

"Well she…could do. You certainly let enough pile up rather than reprocess it." Rip gestured at the impressive crumple of outfits. "Now would you please get out of those ridiculous clothes?"

Barry and Len smirked at each other and then tumbled into helpless laughter, because getting out of them was exactly where things had led, and they had had far too much fun tonight.

"And INTO your normal clothing before I ask you to excuse yourselves from my ship!" Rip barked.

Len zipped himself up in the Flash suit and turned around to face him. "Gonna try to keep my boy away again, Captain?"

Finally, Rip met gazes with them, though with significant distaste in his expression. "If you would confine yourselves to your bunk for these activities, I'd consider a change of heart."

"No promises," Len said.

Barry snorted. He'd apologize, but then…he wasn't at all sorry.

* * *

Rip hung around outside the Fabricator room to be sure Flash and Snart left it unsullied. Or as unsullied as it could be at this point. He allowed them their privacy to change, but this was getting plain ridiculous now. A mountain of clothing just to play some silly game and have their fun somewhere public? Shameful.

It had nothing to do with the fact that it had been far too long since Rip's last romp with another person. Absolutely nothing.

At last, Flash and Snart exited the room in their original clothing, and a quick glance back showed that they had indeed recycled the rest. Rip stood his ground with crossed arms to express his disapproval. Like teenagers, honestly.

"I left an outfit for ya, Rip, in case your cowboy comes calling," Snart had the audacity to wink at him, as he curved an arm around Flash's waste, obscenely low, and led him off down the corridor.

Rip looked back into the room again to see that Snart had, in fact, left behind the black outfit he'd worn in the old west, complete with cowboy hat. "Oh very funny," he called after them, though he'd be damned if he ever admitted to the crew about his tryst with Hex. He'd been young, single, and lonely at the time. To say nothing of being quite single and lonely now.

And Jonah did so enjoy him in black...

Rip huffed and entered the Fabricator room in a flurry to toss the outfit in for recycling. The pair was a terrible influence, obviously. To think they were the heroes of their age.

"Gideon, must you play favorites?" he leaned his head against the glass of the Fabricator station.

"Yes, Captain," Gideon responded in her usual cheery tone. "It's part of my programing."

* * *

TBC...

Still a couple more planned!

Like that foursome. ;-)

Comments are appreciated!


	15. You can have us do anything you want

**Lenny isn't entirely sure how Barry does it, but somehow he and The Flash convince him and Captain Cold to do much more than just work together.**

 **The long awaited foursome between the Earth-1 and Earth-2 ColdFlash couples from Citizen Cold's POV.**

* * *

Lenny could still hardly believe there had been two Zooms. Well, the same Zoom, just from different moments in time—one being a remnant created to make everyone's lives on Earth-2—as the breachers called them—that much harder.

When they'd defeated Zoom originally, they hadn't seen who he really was beneath the mask. But only too recently they'd discovered that 'Jay Garrick', their own city's Flash, was never Jay Garrick at all but the original Zoom—Hunter Zolomon.

Barry hadn't taken the news well. He'd liked their world's Flash and that Lenny worked with him occasionally. He was also terrified of Zolomon, a rare instance of serial killer in their world who should have been long dead.

Dr. Snow from Earth-1 had been crushed as well, but at least it seemed she hadn't pursued much of a relationship with him.

If it hadn't been for Earth-1's Flash and Cold— _Captain_ , in comparison to Lenny's Citizen—they might have been overtaken by Zoom again. The real Jay Garrick was a welcome help as well, yet another Flash from a different world. Truth be told though, Lenny was getting a little sick of speedsters.

But Zoom had been defeated once again, and while there had been casualties, the heroes had prevailed. Lenny would have been comforted by that thought—if he hadn't planned on proposing to Barry that week, which had been thoroughly ruined. His grandfather's ring was burning a hole in his pocket that even his powers couldn't counter.

There just wasn't a good time, even now that Zoom was gone. Lenny owed Flash and Cold and their teams from Earth-1. It was only common courtesy that he allow the pair of do-gooders—or do-gooder and reformed villain—to rest after the fight before they headed home tomorrow with their friends.

Besides, Flash wanted to see Lenny's 'Icebox', as he'd dubbed it. He said that would make a great lair name for a cold themed meta human. Lenny had tried to explain to the kid that he didn't have a 'lair' so much as a closed off basement under the abuse shelter he worked at that both served as his office—though he had a more visible office upstairs too—and as a place for him to store his gear and safely monitor the city.

Maybe it was a good thing he couldn't propose yet. Lenny was exhausted. He didn't mind catering to Flash and Cold for a night though. They'd earned a few requests.

So, down in the Icebox—maybe the name was growing on him—Flash and Cold would be staying in Lenny's makeshift bedroom. He hadn't used it as much ever since he and Barry started dating. His lonely nights were over. He usually crashed at Barry's place now, sometimes they'd end up at his apartment instead, but the bedroom still existed in his lair if ever he needed it. Flash and Cold were welcome to use it tonight.

The Icebox had no elevator, just two entrances accessible by stairs, one that led directly outside, the other to Lenny's public office. The basement floor had a main room for a desk and surveillance, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a large storeroom that Lenny had turned into the bedroom.

He and Cold were in the kitchen now, putting away the leftovers of the Chinese food they'd ordered. Not that there was much remaining. Flash ate impressively for someone so slender. Lenny was grateful his power set didn't work on a metabolism like that. He'd never be able to afford it.

"How does Flash manage?" Lenny asked, looking at the paltry containers left over that Cold had already warned him would probably be empty by morning.

Cold snorted. He had a more halting way of communicating than Lenny did. Maybe because he was self-made instead of educated, or because he tended to speak with an edge of intimidation even when carrying on a pleasant conversation.

Given what little Lenny had learned about the man's background, it was no wonder. Lenny's hadn't been too different at the start, but he'd suffered his father's abuse for only a handful of years before the man died and Lenny's grandfather took him and Lisa in. Cold had endured Lewis for much longer. No wonder he was a criminal.

"Haven't looked at the grocery bill," Cold said, "but Flash was gifted STAR Labs by the megalomaniac who used to run it. The settlement his father received after he was released from wrongful imprisonment doesn't hurt either. Kid's not exactly strapped for cash. Not that he'd ever show it."

These men led fascinatingly different lives from Lenny and Barry, though in some ways they were still very much the same.

"Of course if Flash ever needed a loan, I could take care of it," Cold grinned.

Not legally, he meant. It was a very strange relationship.

Lenny and Cold hadn't changed out of their costumes yet, aside from Lenny's domino mask getting tossed aside before dinner and Cold having his goggles around his neck. Lenny often forgot when he was even wearing his since it was so comfortable, like a second skin. Sleeveless bodysuit. Sleeveless duster with a hood. The fur along the hood was something he and his counterpart had in common, though Lenny preferred brighter blues. That cold gun was interesting too. The beam almost looked like Lenny's blasts of ice when it fired. The parallels between them were remarkable.

He wanted to ask so many questions of his doppelganger, but they'd agreed not to pry too much. Prying could only lead to what-ifs, and that wasn't good for anyone.

"Beer?" Lenny offered, taking one out for himself.

"Much obliged," Cold nodded.

Lenny grabbed one for Barry as well. "Flash?"

"Grab him one. He just can't feel the buzz."

"Pity. Metabolism again?"

"I hear Team Flash is digging for a workaround. Those experiments should be fun."

Lenny handed Cold two beers, keeping another two for himself. "Lisa's dying to meet you, by the way. If she wasn't busy working on damage control as mayor, she likely would have dropped by."

"Mayor." Cold shook his head and took an initial swig from one of the bottles. "Our sisters are about as different as we are. She still nose her way into your business?"

"Whenever she gets the chance. You should have seen how she vetted Barry. Showed up at Picture News for an exclusive interview he'd never scheduled just to see how he'd react under pressure. Poor kid almost had a heart attack."

Cold chuckled as they headed back toward the main room. "Maybe they're _not_ so different."

"Barry and Flash sure seem to be. Your boy is a bit more…forward, I've gathered."

"One way of putting it," Cold shrugged, "but maybe your Barry could—"

Something gave a loud thud from the other room. Lenny and Cold both reacted on instinct, setting the bottles on the table as they raced passed it, Cold drawing the gun from his hip holster and Lenny icing his hands up to his elbows as they burst out into the main room—

Only to find that several of Lenny's case files had been pushed to the floor because of how much space Barry and Flash took up on his desk. Flash had an arm around Barry's waist while Barry appeared to be exploring how far down Flash's throat he could stick his tongue.

"Th' _hell_ is going on?" Lenny growled.

The pair on the desk lurched apart. Barry peeked at Lenny with a bright flush to his cheeks as he pushed his falling glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Flash ducked his head as if afraid to meet Cold's glare.

"Len…uhh…I can explain—"

" _I_ kissed _him_!" Barry blurted. "I'm so sorry, Lenny. It wasn't Flash's fault."

Lenny bristled. Of course Barry had initiated. He'd confessed he felt insecure around his double since Flash had a more toned physique, but that he was also oddly attracted to him. And the idea of all four of them together. Lenny did not feel the same way about Cold. The man was a thief, even if he had reformed for his speedster.

Though there was an edge to him that both scared and intrigued Lenny, something he'd never known in himself. It wasn't alluring exactly, but it wasn't a bad look on him either.

 _No_ , Lenny would not let these unfairly adorable brunettes mess with his head! No matter how appealing they'd looked tangled up like that. Lenny had an engagement ring in his pocket for chrissake!

" _Not_ happening," Cold staunchly agreed with him.

Flash jumped off the end of the desk. "I'm sorry, Len. We just got carried away."

"It really was my fault," Barry broke in, following Flash from the desk and straightening his red bowtie that had gone crooked. His green eyes seemed larger than Flash's, or maybe that was just because he looked more cornered right now. "I was curious. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. It would never be that you're not enough for me, Lenny," he surged forward, though still kept a few feet between them in case he wasn't wanted, "it's just such a unique experience meeting each other. Who would ever have an opportunity like this?"

For _all four of them_ he meant.

Flash smiled in a bashful way that would have been reminiscent of Lenny's Barry if there wasn't an edge to it. "He makes a compelling argument, you know."

"Scarlet…" Cold clutched his gun like he had half a mind to still fire.

Flash moved to Cold's side, slow and gauging for once, and reached to curl his fingers around Cold's on the handle of the gun. "What part don't you like, Len? Tell me. Is it just that you don't want _Citizen Cold_ to touch me…or Barry too? Because if it's both and it feels like cheating no matter what, I'll beg forgiveness for that kiss and never bring it up again. But…" He glanced from Cold to Lenny then back at Barry, who was inching his way closer while Flash spoke. "You two could always just watch _us_ have fun." He bit his lip with a devious grin. Lenny's Barry was never that devious.

The silence was electric—or maybe that was just Flash.

Cold's eyes fell to Flash's lips. "Just…the two of you?" he said quietly.

Barry had reached Lenny by now and pushed his arms down from a fighting position even though he hissed a little at the sting of cold. Lenny's ice started to recede finally, because Barry had this small smile on his face hoping for permission—to debauch and be debauched by an alternate reality version of himself. This was definitely a unique situation, and Lenny knew he didn't have to worry about losing Barry to some other _him_.

He looked at Barry, at Flash who was so temptingly similar, then at Cold beside him. Their blue eyes met with an unspoken agreement.

"So…" Flash said with a triumphant smirk, "…bedroom's in there?"

* * *

Lenny was reminded of his and Barry's first time when they got to the bedroom. Barry hadn't been a virgin but hadn't been far removed from one either. He'd trembled and giggled and succumbed to everything Lenny wanted with a pleasant sigh at each new touch.

With Flash leading him, Barry's reactions were the same. The nerves present in the shake of his hands. The way he laughed when he tried to take his glasses off but Flash told him to leave them on. The whimper that left him when Flash tugged on an end of his bowtie to undo it.

They'd only barely backed up to the bed, with Lenny and Cold standing on opposite sides of the room as they gauged how to best watch the show, both glancing at each other as if waiting for the other to put a stop to this.

Lenny didn't know what it meant that the last thing wanted was to say 'stop'.

"Um," Barry gripped Flash's wrist to prevent him from undoing his vest buttons just yet, "can you…"

"Yeah?" Flash licked his lips and stepped closer to crowd against Barry.

"Can you wear your suit? For a little while, I mean. Obviously, I'll want it off eventually, but…" Barry's cheeks turned so _scarlet_.

Flash had changed straight away when they got to the Icebox, since he could do so in half a second. They'd brought a few changes of clothing with them to Earth-2. His cardigan in three shades of blue seemed more fitting of Lenny's Barry than The Flash.

"Of course," Flash said. He held up a finger, and after a flicker of yellow light, he was gone and back again, wearing his Flash costume. Lenny wouldn't be opposed to putting Barry in skin-tight red leather sometime.

Flash's cowl was up, but Barry reached forward with a wide smile and pushed it away from his face. He liked the suit, but he still wanted to see his own features looking back at him. Lenny didn't think the knowledge of that would turn him on so much, but there it was.

Flash slid a gloved hand around the curve of Barry's cheek and kissed him, twin tongues tangling, comparable bodies pressed tight together with the bed at the back of Barry's knees.

Lenny felt desire stir in his gut that he couldn't dismiss. His eyes flicked to Cold again on the other side of the room. There were chairs, but Cold didn't move to sit in one, so Lenny didn't either.

Holding Barry securely with one arm around his waist like they'd been on the desk, Flash lowered him to the bed until Barry was sitting on the edge with Flash straddling his hips. Red-clad fingers twisted in Barry's hair to tilt his head to the side and Flash whispered, "I wonder how many things I like that you've never even _tried_."

Barry shuddered.

"I can think of one thing I know you've never felt before. Not like this." Flash lifted his right hand to his mouth to tug the glove free with his teeth and let it drop to the floor. He trailed his fingers down Barry's still clothed chest, but still didn't move to undo the buttons. He grazed his fingers all the way down to Barry's slacks, slipped up beneath his vest and button down to get to his waistband, and slid inside boldly to stroke Barry.

Barry whimpered. Then something new must have happened—because he moaned in a way Lenny had never heard before.

Lenny took a few steps closer to the bed. Flash's hidden hand appeared to be buzzing, blurring with movement as it—shit, _vibrated_. Lenny didn't know speedsters could do that.

"You're going too fast, Scarlet," Cold said, voice husky but still steady as he moved to keep parallel with Lenny, each of them only a few feet from the bed. "Way he's squirming, he'll be done in minutes if you keep on. You know the way you _really_ like it."

Quick to obey, Flash removed his hand from Barry's slacks with a grin, and Barry blinked up at him with equal parts pleading, trepidation, and enthusiasm.

" _Slower_ ," Cold said as if the word held secret meaning for them. "Bet he likes to be _tortured_ just like you do. Really have things drawn out. Right, White Hat?" He turned his eyes on Lenny.

Cold meant the name as a jab, since Lenny was more inclined to follow the law and only broke it as a vigilante for more opportunities to help. He _was_ a white hat. Cold wasn't wrong about Barry either.

"Something else they have in common," Lenny said, rising to the challenge—if Cold meant it as one. Lenny had no intention of putting an end to this.

Flash lowered himself to sit in Barry's lap, which provided pressure that Barry seemed both pained and pleased to feel. His whine got swallowed by Flash's mouth, hands sneaking up the back of his shirt, one naked and one gloved. A subtle rocking motion ground their hips together and Flash soon moved from Barry's lips to his jawline and then down his neck. Barry had the most sensitive skin there, especially at the dip behind his ear.

Flash must have known, must be sensitive there himself, because he went right for it and lapped out with a long, wet swipe of his tongue.

Barry's mewling was so strange to experience from a distance. Lenny found himself inching closer to the bed again, feeling overheated enough from the scene that he summoned ice beneath his skin to cool off.

"Move him up the bed, kid," Cold commanded, a playful tilt to his head as he watched them. "Got plenty of room."

Barry hated it when Lenny called him 'kid', but Flash didn't seem to mind. He licked Barry's earlobe, then gave a subtle nod. Seconds later, they were spread out properly, centered on the bed with Flash still straddling Barry as he lay beneath him.

Barry huffed a surprised, impressed laugh at the sensation of having been moved so fast. They kissed again, going for each other at the same time, more eager and ravenous than before, but slower in the slide of their tongues and the curl of Barry's fingers in the collar of Flash's suit.

Every time Lenny's double made a move forward, he mimicked him and vice versa, until finally they had nowhere to go but on the bed with the others. Lenny took the initiative to sit first and shrugged the duster from his shoulders, leaving him in his form-fitting, sleeveless bodysuit. Cold remained standing, and watched Lenny instead of their partners for a moment, as if wondering what he'd do next.

Lenny couldn't let Cold have all the fun, ordering them around like that. He watched Flash push Barry's shirt and vest up his lean stomach and said, "Barry," making both of them turn their heads. Lenny held his Barry's gaze. "You're good with your mouth. Show him. I want to see you between his thighs." He nodded at Flash, who smiled wickedly at the prospect.

Barry flushed darkly. "I-I can do that."

They started to shift positions, but Cold called out from his side of the bed.

"No. Stay like that. Climb up his body, Scarlet. Keep him lying down."

 _Yes_ , Lenny thought as he envisioned what Cold meant. "And help him with the suit," he told Barry when Flash reached to unzip it. "You pull him out, Barry. I want to see your hands on him."

A rush filled Lenny at issuing orders like this, even though nothing was being done to _him_. He could see how much Barry loved it too; he knew that hungry look in his lover's eyes.

Finally, Cold sat on the bed, each of them bookending their partners now. It was a _big_ bed. Old, but king-sized. Lenny and Cold could easily sit on the edges and touch themselves while they watched the show without ever touching Barry or The Flash. But Cold didn't remove so much as his boots yet, so Lenny kept his bodysuit on.

Barry's hands trembled as he slowly opened up the Flash suit from neck to navel—then lower. The belt fell to the bed, the suit a single piece that opened all the way down until Barry's hand sunk inside and pulled Flash out with a firm stroke. Flash was toned in a way that Barry couldn't achieve naturally, but below the waist they were still twins.

Lenny could almost believe he was watching Barry touch himself, which he did very much enjoy, but the added dynamic of a real other Barry being there made Lenny's head spin. His hand on the bed slid across the comforter without meaning to.

Cold cleared his throat. "I don't touch your Barry…you don't touch mine," he said like a thinly veiled threat.

Lenny pulled his hand back. He wanted to touch. Of course he did. They were _gorgeous_. But the thought of Cold's hands on his Barry made Lenny's stomach twist. "Agreed," he said.

Cold slid off his parka as if their exchange had warranted some sort of reward—though for which of them, Lenny wasn't sure.

Barry and Flash were too engrossed in each other to have cared about the exchange. Barry had started to pump Flash in his palm, while his free hand teased the fine muscles of those lightning-etched abs. Barry had spoken of them with envy, but he looked at them now like he wanted a taste. He'd get a taste of _something_ soon.

Barry seemed to think the same thing, because he slowed his strokes, moved his hands to Flash's hips, and tugged. Flash shifted accordingly and started a purposeful crawl. When he reached Barry's shoulders, he lifted up, gripped the headboard for leverage, and lowered himself toward Barry's waiting mouth.

Lenny bit back a grunt. He knew what those lips felt like. He never imagined he'd enjoy watching someone else part them, but damn these two, they were right, because Flash wasn't just _someone_ , he was _Barry_ —was and wasn't, and yet that made all the difference.

"He can take more," Lenny said, reaching between his legs to adjust himself. "Just go slow."

Flash muttered something like, "Uh huh," and his breath stuttered from having his tip sucked so sweetly, and then more as he thrust down deeper. He whined at the encompassing heat, his voice so like Barry's, and finally Lenny understood why Barry had gotten so worked up watching Flash and Cold at Picture News.

"Grab his ass, kid," Cold gruffed out. "He likes a good grip when he's being sucked off."

"D-Don't..." Barry sputtered to the side, "call me 'kid'," then returned to his work without missing another beat and reached with both hands to palm Flash's ass.

Flash and Cold both chuckled. "You heard him, Len," Flash said.

"Fat chance getting me to stop calling _you_ kid," Cold teased back.

Another laugh spilled out of Flash as he began a gentle rocking motion in and out between Barry's lips. Lenny was about to tell them to hold off, slow down, but Cold spoke first.

"Your call, _Allen_ ," he said, as if to joke that he just couldn't call someone other than his own Barry 'Barry', "But Flash here has an almost nonexistent refractory period."

 _What?_

"So you can finish him off and he'll be good to go almost instantly. Citizen?" Cold peered across the bed to look at Lenny.

 _No refractory period?_ "Drink him down, baby," Lenny said, loving the way Barry picked up his pace and gripped Flash's ass tighter even before the order finished leaving him.

Flash flushed just like Barry did all down his neck and chest—the like nickname wasn't only for the suit, clearly—and moaned in pretty little vowels. " _Len_ ," he finally said, head lolling to the side to look at Cold, "I want to see you go down on _Frosty_ …"

Did…did he mean—?

"Defiant even between his legs… and steal his orgasm before he wants to give it up."

Barry moaned around Flash's length at that conjured image, while Lenny stiffened and Cold's body language went equally rigid.

" _Please_ , Len…" Flash's breathing increased, his body shivering with tiny vibrations, "I want to hear you make yourself beg. _Fuck_ , that'd be hot…" He tensed and his face turned upward toward the ceiling with a long stretch of his neck as he spilled down Barry's throat.

In the aftermath, Barry licked him clean and looked at Lenny with fire in his eyes. Then, almost too quickly for Lenny to follow, Flash was lying on top of Barry, kissing the taste out of his twin's mouth with lewd licks of his own.

"I'm going to have you begging to be fucked before we're through," Flash said.

Lenny did _not_ talk to Barry like that. He couldn't imagine anyone talking to Barry like that—until now. Barry regarded Flash with envy and reverence, like all he'd ever wanted was to have dirty sweet-nothings spoken into his ear.

"You can have us do anything you want," Flash said, lifting up to straddle Barry again, his dick still hard and slick as it bobbed out of the suit. He dropped his head to the side to look at Lenny then rolled his neck to look at Cold. " _Anything_. Just tell me. Where I should put my hands. How slowly I should undress him. Whether I should keep the suit on. And all we're asking...is that you consider returning the favor."

"Please, Lenny," Barry panted beneath Flash, straining his slacks that were damp from how wet he'd become. "If Cold is willing—"

"I'm willing."

Lenny's eyes snapped to his doppelganger, where he'd been trying to avoid placing his attention for the past thirty seconds. All he saw was defiance in those blue eyes that were and were not like his own.

"We said no touching each other's partners," Cold said. "Not each other."

 _Was he serious?_

"If you're interested…" Cold stood, not waiting for an answer—not really asking either. Only his low voice and the tent to his thermal pants gave away the state of him. Otherwise, he was fully collected. "Lose the suit, Scarlet," he gave another command while circling the bed. "Then undress your double. Slow as you can. I plan to have Citizen Cold nice and relaxed by the time you're ready to open Allen up."

Lenny turned to face Cold. "I don't know if—"

"You lose the suit too," Cold spoke over him.

Lenny scowled. He knew what Cold was doing, still all about the power play, agreeing to this to take control of the situation and prove he was more _in charge_ than Lenny, regardless of positions. Lenny should have hated it, but his pulse trip-hammered and grew louder in his ears.

"Lenny…"

A thin hand alighted on Lenny's arm. He turned to see Barry lying there with such potent desire in his eyes. Flash had gotten off the bed to finish removing his suit, and Cold sat down to counter him, close beside Lenny. But before Lenny could voice any complaints, Barry pulled him down for a kiss.

Even the remnants of Flash's taste on Barry's tongue were familiar.

Lenny spread out beside Barry, distracted enough by his lover's lips that he didn't realize at first it wasn't his own hands pulling down the zipper of his suit. But his zipper was on the back side, and from this position he couldn't _reach_ —

Lenny gasped from the kiss.

"Relax," Cold said. He rolled Lenny onto his back so he could pull the unzipped suit from his arms. Lenny was being undressed by his own hands that weren't his hands, while a naked Flash crawled back onto the bed with a confident prowl toward Barry.

Who were these men?

Intense scrutiny looked back at him in Cold's gaze, like a promise. He wouldn't push if Lenny truly said no, if he tried to stop him and pulled away. But Lenny didn't want to do that. Curiosity outweighed his unease.

He lifted his hips to let Cold peel the blue and white fabric from his body and couldn't ignore the way Flash and Cold both stared at him, looking for differences maybe? Lenny didn't know what Cold looked like without the layers. He didn't know what the man's naked arms look like, even, but surely there weren't enough differences to warrant such attention. Lenny had a few scars on his chest and back. He assumed Cold's were worse.

It wasn't lack of scars that captured their attention though. Couldn't be. They seemed more interested than anything.

"What?" Lenny prompted, feeling more exposed from their combined stares on his chest than he did from being bared to them both as his suit dropped to the floor.

Flash shared a private smile with Cold. "You'll see," he said.

Cold cockled his head at Flash in mock annoyance but must have taken the comment for a command, because he gripped the bottom of his sweater and pulled it off in one fluid motion.

"Oh…" Barry exclaimed, even as Flash began to slowly drag the slacks down his legs.

Cold may have had more scars, but they were hidden by a mural of blue and black all across his chest and arms. Some of the tattoos had swatches of additional color. Lenny noticed a Jack of Spades, a swirl of numbers, and several blue and silver snowflakes. He'd never considered getting tattoos himself, but if he'd lived a different life, in and out of prison with more scars to cover, he might have ended up equally painted.

Lenny instinctively reached toward Cold's chest, but the man shifted to get down between Lenny's legs, not shy, just eager to continue the game. That's what this was—a game. Lenny didn't care if Cold wanted to 'beat' him. He had Barry within touching distance and a talented tongue— _shit_ —twirling along his skin.

Cold was skilled. Experienced. Lenny adored Barry's inexperienced enthusiasm, the way he listened and adapted and always tried so hard to please him, but having someone between his thighs who instantly knew—

" _Fuck_ ," Lenny arched his neck, pushing his head into the mattress at the full envelopment of Cold's mouth.

Flash giggled beside him as he got Barry's vest and shirt open and bent to lick his chest. Barry had fewer muscles than Flash, but Lenny loved that smooth span of skin.

Barry was panting again, undressed down to his glasses and boxers. He looked at Lenny with a hazy smile, pupils blown and cheeks rosy.

Lenny flailed a hand toward him and their fingers tangled—tightened—as Lenny moaned at Cold swallowing him down, _all the way_. Cold's nose pressed to dark hair as Lenny clutched at the man's head and crooked his legs up to give him better access.

"That is so hot…" Flash said, about to remove Barry's shorts but then he sat up. "Come here, Len," he ordered and reached for his lover so that the moment Cold raised his head, Flash had him by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

"Ngn," Barry groaned at the sight of them, still holding Lenny's hand. "Aren't they beautiful, Lenny? Do you get it now? I couldn't _help_ it."

Lenny had to smile, because it _was_ thrilling to watch another version of them so enraptured by each other and in love. "I get it," he said, admiring the contrast of Flash's pale skin against Cold's dark ink. The pair pulled apart with matching grins.

Flash returned to Barry with a vengeance, tugging his underwear down with a flicker of lightning. "I'm going to fuck you, Barry. And I want _you_ ," he looked at Cold, "to ride Frosty."

"That name is _not_ becoming a thing," Lenny said before he registered the rest of what Flash had said. Cold was already hunkering down between Lenny's legs again with a contemplative expression.

"I think it's cute," Barry said far too innocently for someone lying naked beneath his naked double—because of course he liked the name 'Frosty'.

But envisioning Cold on top of him, _riding_ him as Flash had said, had Lenny too distracted to complain. Cold seemed to take it as another challenge to be won. He licked a wet stripe up Lenny's underside while looking right into his eyes, and Lenny's mind went blank.

"Lenny can do this thing with his powers…" Barry was telling Flash.

"Yeah? Len used ice cubes on me once."

"Yes! Just like that. Only Lenny's _fingers_ are the ice."

"I have to see that."

"Scarlet…" Cold interjected, chiding but amused.

"Come on, Len, you like _my_ powers," Flash said.

Lenny's head was spinning. Cold was having mercy on him for the moment, but only so he could finish undressing to join the rest of them. He shucked off his boots and the rest of his clothes without leaving the bed.

"Do you have supplies?" Flash asked Barry.

"I think so. Check the nightstand."

Lightning flickered and suddenly Flash had lube and condoms that he tossed on the bed.

"Can you, umm…do that vibrating thing?" Barry looked at him in wonder. "When you stretch me?"

"Oh I plan on it."

The feeling of hands dragging up the inside of Lenny's thighs drew his attention back to Cold. The other man had this little sideways smirk. He nodded at the lube resting beside them and raised an eyebrow in question.

"Is it always like this?" Lenny asked. Flash and Barry were kissing again, but there was no question what would come next. "You and Flash?"

"You mean how mouthy and demanding he is?" Cold said, which prompted Flash to sputter a laugh out of the kiss and reach over to smack Cold's arm. "Always. Him on top though? We tend to switch. You don't?" He scanned down Lenny's body. It was starting to feel more comfortable, having Cold between his thighs.

"We have, but Barry…"

"I…" Barry flushed at the mention, more from embarrassment than the way Flash sprawled over him, letting the hardness between their bodies glide past each other. "I just usually prefer…"

"Nothing to ashamed of, ki— _Allen_ ," Cold said. It was interesting how he wouldn't call him Barry or Scarlet. _Telling_.

"I know. But I think I could try being more…" Barry grasped Flash's arms and looked up at him fervently, " _commanding_."

"And not only when you're mad at me?" Lenny said.

Barry scoffed and reached over to push him playfully, only too reminiscent of how Flash and Cold had just acted.

Cold was still running his hands up and down Lenny's thighs, but otherwise waited for a sign before pushing for anything more. Lenny was going to show him. He was going to take Cold apart just like he would Barry.

"We're doing this differently," he said and seized Cold by the arms, summoning just enough of his ice to make Cold gasp. Lenny tucked the man toward him as he shifted their positions. Soon the thief was the one laid out on the bed with Lenny on top.

He slid his hands to Cold's wrists and pinned his arms above his head while nudging the man's legs apart with his knee. Cold's eyes shone with challenge again but also with the same excitement Lenny was feeling.

"I'm going to bend you in half," Lenny growled, aware of how vigilantly Barry and Flash were watching. "Right here beside you, baby. So you can watch…" he leaned in closer to Cold, "…but not… _touch_ ," and kissed him.

The smell of Cold was wintery from his gun but different from the smell of Lenny's powers, and the man tasted…like _Barry_ and electricity.

Cold cloyed for Lenny's tongue, still trying to _win_ , but Lenny was going to win this round and Cold was going to love it.

A whimper stole Lenny's attention to the left. Flash had pushed Barry's legs up and tilted him back on the bed. He dragged the pads of vibrating fingers along Barry's most intimate stretches of skin. Even if Barry hadn't been wearing his glasses, Lenny would have been able to tell the difference in their bodies, but it still looked like a dream to see the two of them together.

"You like the way those vibrations feel, Cold?" Lenny asked the man beneath him.

He'd pulled back on his powers so his hands weren't as chill, but as one held firm around Cold's wrists to keep them above his head, the other drew down across his inked skin and slowly started to frost over. He could shoot cold from his hands like a blast or a dagger of ice, but he could also cover himself with it. He'd played with using his ice on Barry before, especially that night after they'd first met their doppelgangers. He'd wanted to prove to Barry that he should never want anyone but him.

Now they were side by side instead of together but somehow it didn't feel wrong like Lenny expected.

His hand was pure ice by the time he reached Cold's hips. Cold shivered at the sensation but his eyes blazed hot. Lenny trailed a frozen fingertip down the center of the man's thick length. At last, a noise left him that Lenny knew was unintentional, a low grunt that made his eyes dart away when Lenny caught him.

"Makes sense…like this," Lenny said, circling Cold's head with each finger and then palming him one coiling digit at a time. His body heat pushed through the ice to create a unique sensation that Barry called invigorating. Cold seemed to agree and met Lenny's eyes again. "The only person who can best us...is the man we love…and ourselves."

When Cold's mask dropped, he looked so much younger. Now they understood each other. Now the game was fair and it didn't matter who won.

Lenny tightened his grip on Cold and dove for another kiss. He rocked forward to feel his own hardness slide against Cold's thigh as he pumped the man in his ice-covered hand.

Barry whimpered again, and again Lenny and Cold both turned to look. Flash had dribbled lube onto Barry's length and down… _down_ to his entrance where Flash twisted the tip of a finger and pressed inside. His hand still vibrated, still blurred. It should have been simple, like a toy, but something about the sensation coming from the control of his hand changed what might have been mundane. Barry's lips parted and eyes glazed over like Lenny had only seen when he used his ice.

Lenny was going to do that for Cold.

The ice made every inch of skin Lenny touched slick. He could skip the lube for stretching, though he'd use it later—definitely. He stroked Cold a few times more, then brought his hand down beneath them. Cold rocked his hips up to mirror Barry, and Lenny pulled his other hand down from holding Cold's wrists.

"Keep your arms like that," he ordered. "I enjoy the view."

"Me too," Flash rumbled from beside them. He was slowly thrusting one finger into Barry, causing Barry to huff and rock his hips. The sight should have driven Lenny mad with jealousy, to see someone else doing that to _his_ Barry, but instead he had to stroke himself to stave off the ache.

He quickly reached forward and twirled an icy finger around the pliable pucker of skin presented to him. They'd said Cold had done something similar to Flash once, but he'd never felt the cold himself. "You're going to wish you had my powers when I'm though with you."

"Or we could just visit more often," Cold smirked.

" _Yes_ ," Barry moaned as Flash scissored in a second finger.

"I have something else I could try," Flash said, "but I don't know how it'll feel. I've never done it to Len before."

That drew all of their attention and Flash bit his lip like he had a dirty secret.

"I've only tried it on myself," he said, slipping his fingers free of Barry and lifting his hand so they could all see. The vibrations slowed but kept a steady pulse, and then…jolts of yellow fizzled around his skin. "Just a little _spark_." Slowly, he brought his hand down to touch the side of Barry's erection.

Barry jumped and Flash pulled back.

" _Wait_ ," Barry said plaintively. "It's good. It's _good_. Do it again."

The wicked twist to Flash's features never failed to delight Lenny. The speedster touched his fingers to Barry again, and Barry quivered as Flash's whole sparking hand wrapped around him. This time it wasn't a giggle that left Flash but a deep rumble when Barry's voice rang out with a low keen. Flash stroked Barry once, twice, then pulled his hand down to continue stretching him—still buzzing and sparking with power.

Lenny had never ceased his feather-light swirls around Cold's entrance, but now he pressed forward to breach it, surprising Cold, who'd become distracted watching the others. Lenny willed his ice to coat his hand a little thicker, a little colder, and pressed the first finger in deeper. They had some catching up to do to keep pace with their boys.

Cold didn't grimace at Lenny being a little rougher than he might have been with Barry. Instead, he seemed to revel in it. "You gonna coat your dick in ice too?"

"That a request?"

"Might be. Don't know how else you're gonna keep up, stroke for stroke with my Scarlet. All meta humans are not created equal."

Lenny laughed, because Cold was teasing him so he'd know not to hold back. "I'm going to make you eat those words," he said and twisted two fingers in deep, right to the sweet spot, knowing only too well how to find it.

Cold quaked as goosebumps spread across his painted skin.

Lenny leaned down, which only served to press his fingers in deeper, as he coated his other hand in ice so he could brush his finger across Cold's pecks and stomach before he bent to kiss him again.

"Flash… _please_ …" Barry sounded desperate now. Lenny knew that tone intimately, and when he glanced aside to watch, he discovered that part of why Barry was so wrecked was because his eyes were devouring Lenny and Cold.

Lenny wanted to kiss him— _his_ Barry. But it would have been an awkward angle the way they were now. He wanted to reach over and touch The Flash too, so close beside him, lean muscles taut with tension. But mostly he wanted to sink inside the warm body beneath him—once he got Cold to ask for it.

"You go ahead, Flash," Lenny said, dancing his free hand around Cold's length while the other continued to stretch him. "My baby likes it slow and deep. If you can handle that. Or does being the fastest man alive have its drawbacks?"

Flash rolled a condom on with joy on his face. "Being a speedster means more than going fast, you know? I can stretch time too. Make something feel like it lasts all night long. What about you? Gonna leave my man _cold_?"

Lenny had to admit, this banter thing Flash and Cold did was _fun_. Barry usually tripped over his tongue, which of course Lenny found endearing. Still though.

Lenny looked at Cold, who was clearly eager to move on. "I don't think he's ready yet."

"What?" Cold barely hid the way his eyes widened. "I don't break so easy."

"No? I might need to be convinced."

Cold's arms started to lower.

"Those stay where they are," Lenny ordered.

"Lenny…"

He turned his head at Barry's plea. "Go on, Flash. We'll catch up when Cold learns to ask politely."

Flash snickered.

Cold glared.

Barry gaped at them all, but then inhaled sharply at the slow descent of The Flash finally giving him what he'd asked for.

Lenny wanted to be _asked_.

Droplets of water rolled off of Cold's skin from where Lenny's ice had melted. Each press of his fingers thrust into Cold slower but deeper, caressing along his prostate with an exhilarating chill in his touch. Cold shuddered but still stubbornly refused to play nice.

"Frosty's more like you than I thought, Len," Flash said—and _damn it._ That name really was going to stick.

He'd seated himself inside Barry fully and carded a hand through his neatly combed hair with gentle tugs. They looked gorgeous like that, Flash causing Barry's mouth to fall open once more as the slow thrusts of his hips started to vibrate and _spark_ like his hands.

Barry's moans made Lenny slow the motion of his fingers even further.

" _Enough_ ," Cold grit out, shaking now with need, though he still kept his arms raised and didn't try to squirm away.

"I'll listen…" of course Lenny would, "if you really don't like it."

"I…I like it…but I need _more_."

"How badly?"

" _Urg_ ," Cold snarled in helpless conflict between loving the torture and wanting it over with, and of course, not wanting to admit to either.

"Say the magic word, Len," Flash snorted, face sheened with sweat as he picked up his pace, with little jolts of yellow dancing around him.

Cold looked at Flash and Barry, at the way Barry could barely catch his breath, and his desire won out as he gave into Lenny with a resentful smile. "Fuck me already, White Hat. _Please_."

Lenny snatched up the condom Flash had torn open for him, and had it on and ready to replace his iced fingers in moments. He knew just the right amount of cold he could use without hurting the integrity of the latex.

It helped that Cold obviously found himself in this position more often than Lenny did, because the man opened up easy. He hooked his ankles around Lenny's hips as soon as the descent began and bucked up to show he wasn't one to lie there unresponsive.

Lenny imagined that the next time Barry got him on his back, the kid would try to summon some of his doppelganger's confidence. The full expanse of his skin frost over just thinking about it, combined with the sensations from Cold and the sight of Flash and Barry equally linked beside them.

Lenny's ice was making the sheets wet, pooling beneath Cold with every melting touch. Cold shivered from it, but every thrust had him looking more thankful for those powers.

While Lenny had his ice, Flash's buzzing light show never wavered, and the two powerful meta humans giving in to their abilities seemed to trigger something in Cold. "Forget the rules," he huffed, lowering his arms that shook from the strain of keeping them up for so long. "I want to see those powers clash."

Lenny must have heard him wrong, but when he glanced at Flash, Cold nodded, giving permission they both knew Flash wouldn't protest against. In fact, Flash appeared elated at the thought, stilling his hips with a gauging look at his lover. Lenny looked at Barry in kind. They were all on board with this.

Covered in ice, witnessing The Flash surge with electricity that had left Barry a hard and weeping mess on the bed, Lenny reached for the man with his lover's face like being draw by a magnetic force.

Flash's electricity tingled on Lenny's tongue the moment they met in the middle. Just as instantly, Lenny's ice expanded to spread across Flash's skin, something he'd rarely allowed with Barry, afraid it might hurt him. But Flash whimpered and pressed into the kiss deeper.

Every hair on Lenny's body stood on end, his pulse thrumming. But as good as Flash's lightning felt, Lenny's ice was just as stimulating for the speedster, who moaned out of the kiss and pressed his hands to Lenny's chest to steady himself. They were both sparking, both frosted over— _steaming_.

The bleed of their powers traveled down their bodies into the men they were connected to, causing sharp gasps to leave Cold and Barry from the intensity.

" _Shit_ ," Lenny pulled away from Flash, afraid he'd come right there if they didn't disconnect.

The lightning and ice almost instantly dwindled.

"Do that again," Cold said, rolling his hips to remind Lenny that they were joined. "I wanna feel that when I come."

"Yes… _that_ …" Barry smiled as though half in a daze.

In contrast, Flash seemed more alert than ever. "We can't do both. How can we stay connected?"

Lenny knew they wouldn't last long once their powers mingled again, but he wanted to finish Cold and Barry off properly. He was a strategist. He could do this.

"Angle across the bed." He pulled out of Cold to a growled complaint. "Flash, on your back. Barry, on top. Cold—"

"Over Scarlet so he can suck me off," Cold finished, "and you behind me."

"Exactly."

"Wait…what?" Barry had an impressive intellect usually, but being so close to orgasm often left him _sluggish_.

"I got it," Flash said.

The smell of ozone surrounded them, and after a quick blink and short intake breath, Lenny found himself repositioned just as he'd said. Flash had zipped them into place without a moment lost.

Lenny spread his chilled hands up Cold's backside and further along his spine. The man's tattoos spanned his upper half even across his back.

Shifting forward, Lenny found the slick and ready entrance waiting for him and pressed back in with one good stroke. Cold moaned and arched back, legs spread to bring him low enough for Flash to take him into his mouth.

Lenny could only just see the way Flash sucked his lover in past his lips when he peered around Cold's shoulder. Barry, who Lenny had the most direct view of, rode Flash like he couldn't get enough, his glasses perfectly askew to make him look as wonderfully fuckable as Lenny knew he was.

Reaching down to seek a connection with Flash, Lenny grasped a vibrating hand that was already reaching toward him. The charge of electricity surged between them and Lenny's ice formed from out of his pores in answer, coating his skin again, all down his body, and right to The Flash.

The mix of elements was like a spring storm, with the smell of electricity in the cold air while heat pumped below the surface. The churning power seeped down into Cold, who let out a gruff curse, then to Barry, who plaintively started chanting, "Yes…yes, _Lenny_."

Lenny wished this tangled mess of bodies meant he was close enough to kiss Barry, because that's all he could think about as he watched his lover come, gasping atop The Flash.

Cold was next, hips stuttering and grunted whispers leaving him as Flash sucked him dry and hummed like he'd never tasted anything better.

Then it was Flash, riding out the last clenches of muscle in the wake of Barry's release, which Lenny was only too familiar with. One of Flash's hands remained clasped with Lenny's, but the other reached toward Barry and entwined their fingers.

Finally, it was Lenny's turn, feeling freedom in the depths of _Captain_ Cold—the release of his orgasm with the release his powers. A chill spread through the room that quickly evened out when Flash's lightning fizzled with a comforting warmth.

The bed was soaked with water and sweat. Steam poured from all of their bodies as the last traces of ice and lightning faded. They panted and held immobile for a moment as the high of what they'd experienced slowly sank down to reality...and Lenny's eyes met Barry's.

Cold pushed back against Lenny, he assumed to hint that it was time to separate, but as soon as Lenny sat back, Cold shifted to better align his mouth with The Flash and kissed him like he was ready for round two.

Barry whined in surprise. Flash was still sheathed inside of him, apparently not yet down for the count even after coming twice. Delirious laughter spilled from Barry as he scrambled off of the man and started an eager crawl toward Lenny. Lenny met him halfway and grasped both sides of Barry's face when it neared him.

Cold's lips had been rousing. Flash's lips were electrifying. But Barry's lips were the ones that felt like home. He kissed his lover right there on their knees, while their doubles locked lips upside down beside them.

Barry giggled again when they finally disentangled. Maybe all that ice and lightning had gone to his head.

"Happy?" Lenny asked, running a thumb along Barry's cheekbone.

Mischief sprang to Barry's expression as he readjusted his glasses. "Well…there is one thing..."

"Oh?"

He nodded to Flash and Cold, still lazily kissing a few moments more before they parted. "I didn't get to kiss Cold," Barry said. "Can I, Lenny?"

Lenny could hardly deny such a request when he'd gotten a taste of The Flash. He nodded as Flash and Cold exchanged amused glances and sat up.

They made a perfect square, two couples side by side. Barry and Cold were the corners coming together, a rare cross-section that Lenny supposed wasn't the worst thing that might happen from time to time.

Cold reached for Barry the same way Lenny would have, but he kissed him so differently. Lenny could be rough, especially when Barry requested it, but usually he was gentle because Barry had seemed so fragile to him in the beginning. Barry wasn't fragile as a person, but physically…Lenny hated how easily a villain like Zoom could take Barry away from him. He was gentle because he knew how easily fragile things could be broken.

Between Flash and Cold, Cold was the fragile one. More hardened and skilled than Barry, but he still required a gun. If disarmed, he was just a man, no matter how talented or capable. But Flash didn't look at Cold as if he might lose him at any moment. He looked at him like he _knew_ he could lose him, but that he'd fight tooth and nail to keep that day from coming, and if one day it came anyway, he'd keep on fighting.

They'd talked it all out, they must have. They knew the dangers and they fought anyway, just like Lenny did, just like Barry did when he insisted on writing a story that put him in harm's way.

So no, Cold didn't kiss Barry gently. He kissed him the way he'd kiss The Flash, like they were matched beat for beat and neither of them was fragile. Again, Lenny didn't feel jealousy stir in him to see that, or to see how Barry responded with a smile tugging at his lips. It spurred him to be inspired by these men, not overshadowed. Because he wouldn't lose Barry. Ever. Even fragile in his frame, Barry was a fighter just like The Flash, and Lenny needed to do right by him.

"That is unfairly hot," Flash broke into Lenny's quiet moment. "Seriously...I could go again."

Cold chuckled against Barry's lips. "Scarlet," he tilted his head in reproach his partner, "let the rest of us catch our breaths. I think we've had enough. And I, for one, could use a shower."

"You know…" Barry sat back, closer to Lenny again, though he had his fingers up by his mouth, gently touching his lips like he was still in awe of everything that had happened, "it's a pretty _big_ shower."

Cold huffed in disbelief.

Flash nodded eagerly to counter him.

And Lenny wondered when it was that his world turned so upside down that something this insane had even happened. But he had no regrets. "Shower," he said. "Change the sheets. Then bed."

"And…the rest of those leftovers?" Flash said.

They had only just finished eating a late dinner when all of this started, but then, Cold had warned Lenny. "Fine. But next time you visit, you're picking up the tab."

* * *

The plan had been to sleep at the Icebox alone, just Len and Barry, while Citizen Cold and the adorable reporter Allen headed off to sleep somewhere else. Len had to admit though, he didn't mind that they had ended up as a sprawl of bodies to share that king-sized bed.

Once they'd replaced the sheets and Barry finished downing the remaining leftovers, they were all too exhausted to care about personal space. Barry and his doppelganger curled in toward each other in the center, and Len and the good Citizen spooned around them. It was some of the best sleep Len had had in weeks. Though maybe that was because Zoom was finally gone for good. Or because of the mind-blowing sex.

Of course Len was used to that ever since he started dating Barry.

The kitchen was stocked enough with provisions for a large breakfast. Len had checked before they nodded off. He'd intended to wake up first, make something in thanks to their hosts, but when he finally roused, only _his_ Barry remained. Len kissed the bridge of Barry's nose and left him, first to relieve himself in the bathroom, then to find where the others had gone.

Citizen thought much like Len did, because he could smell bacon as he neared the kitchen and possibly cinnamon. Len wondered if his double made French toast the same way he did.

"Barry…" the voice came soft, emotional in a way that halted Len's steps before he could push in through the door.

"I know it's a weird time to do this, Lenny, but I've been carrying the box around for weeks and I don't want to wait anymore. Not after Zoom. We survived his terror _twice_. What if we hadn't? We even met other versions of us who are just as happy and in love as we are. If I ever needed something to remind me that I want to spend the rest of my life with you…well, I don't need anything to remind me of that, but I do know what I want. You, Lenny. Forever. If you want that too?"

Was the kid actually in there…proposing? _Now?_

A creak sounded behind Len and he whirled around. Barry— _his_ Barry. Of course. He looked sheepish at being caught but kept quiet as he snuck closer to Len to better overhear the pair in the kitchen.

"Lenny? Please say something. Do you not like the ring? I know a snowflake cutout is sort of cheesy—"

"Barry, I'm not at a loss for words because of the ring. I love this ring. It's…perfect. I just don't know what to say, because…you beat me to it, baby, but I've been planning the same thing all week." There was a rustle of motion and clothing, probably Citizen getting a ring from the pocket of his duster hanging on a chair.

They were _both_ proposing. Len felt a little sick from it all, not because he and Barry were infringing on a private moment, but because that kind of happily ever after wasn't in the cards for them.

A warm hand slid into contact with his and laced their fingers together. Len couldn't look at Barry. He'd tuned out whatever else Citizen and Allen might be saying in the kitchen. Maybe they weren't even talking anymore, probably embracing, trying on each other's rings in a blissful daze.

"I'm sorry," Len said, low beneath his breath.

"What for?" Barry asked just as quietly.

Len slowly raised his eyes, taking in the T-shirt and sleep pants Barry had borrowed. Len was similarly dressed. Both barefoot. Unmasked in every possible way. "We can't have that," Len said. "Not legally. Not in the open."

A smile twitched at Barry's lips. "I don't need it in the open, Len. If we ever want to…make a commitment like that, I don't care if the only two people in the world who knows is us. And if we just keep on like this…" he squeezed Len's hand, "that's fine too. You're never going to catch me regretting what we have. Besides, you've basically been pardoned by the police and we've been seen in public plenty."

"By friends, random civilians, and police who know you're The Flash. It's not the same. Your job—"

"Len," Barry turned to face him and grasped his other hand, "if we want to figure it all out someday, we can. If not, it doesn't matter. I'm _happy_. Really. And not only because of the insanely kinky and frequent sex," he waggled an eyebrow.

A grin pulled at the corners of Len's mouth. "You sure about that?" It was different for a hero and a _reporter_ compared to hero and villain. Easier.

"Pretty sure," Barry said like he was seriously contemplating that, then his expression broke into a genuine smile again and he shifted closer to place a simple, purely loving kiss to Len's lips. "Never been surer of anything in my life."

Len closed his eyes and leaned forward until their mouths met once more. Only Barry could make him feel so _warm_. "You know, it'd save time and grief if you just moved into the apartment. No pressure—"

Barry pressed into the kiss again, firm enough to steal Len's breath.

"I assume that's a yes?" Len chuckled.

" _Yes_ ," Barry giggled back at him. "I mean, I practically live there already, but…" he fluttered his oh so green eyes at Len that looked nice behind glasses once in a while but Len preferred Barry just like this, "I'm glad you asked."

It wasn't a proposal but maybe they didn't need to mirror their doubles in everything. They had lived very different lives, after all, but they'd still ended up together.

"Come on," Barry said, tugging Len toward the kitchen, "let's have breakfast and congratulate them."

Len nodded, going along with Barry as he always did—eventually. "Okay. But before you offer celebratory sex, I'm still recovering from last night."

Barry laughed—all the way through the door.

* * *

TBC...


	16. Maybe we should have sex less out in the

**At long last, Len and Barry get a taste of their own medicine as they catch nearly everyone they know in a compromising and often semi-public situation.**

* * *

Stumbling around the city at all hours of the night, looking for any convenient place with a hard surface was the norm for Len and Barry. They were superheroes. Their schedules didn't operate on normal work hours. So, after a long patrol or averted disaster, the chance to get their hands on each other as quickly as possible was usually the first thing on their minds, even if they were a little banged up and beyond exhausted.

Barry loved that Len was as insatiable as he was. Or maybe Barry had rubbed off on Len over the months—years, actually. Wow, almost two whole years. They just never got enough of each other. There were nights when Netflix and chill really meant _Netflix_ and curling up on the sofa without any funny business happening, and plenty of missions didn't allow for extracurricular activities as often as they preferred, but most nights it was all Barry could do to keep from tearing Len out of his parka in front of civilians.

Tonight, was one of those nights.

It had been a few days, they'd been rounding up mob family contacts around the city, and finally, _finally_ they'd bagged the enforcer at the core of all the trouble. After leaving the goon tied up practically with a bow on the steps of the CCPD, Barry wanted nothing more than to mount Len at the closest available location.

Being it was after 2AM, that place was Saints and Sinners, which should be cleared of any patrons or lingering help, and hey, Len had a key.

"I want to ride you on top of a pool table," Barry mouthed along Len's ear as they zipped to a stop outside the back entrance. Normally, he could have phased them inside, but he was too tired tonight.

"Sounds good to me, Scarlet," Len said, fumbling to find the right key. "Might throw you on top of the bar at some point."

"Mmm…yeah…that too."

As the door creaked open and they crashed through, hands groping at each other, mouths missing lips for the edges of their jaws and necks instead, even though the door had been locked, it was strange to enter and find the lights on. Not that Barry cared enough to slow down or stop his attack on his boyfriend until they stumbled out into the main room and discovered that the pool table was already occupied.

"Oh my god!"

Barry tore from Len's embrace at the sight of two naked bodies sprawled on the nearest felt tabletop, one ensnared with rope in true bondage fashion, while another figure hovered above, lowering a weeping cock toward the bound man's mouth.

" _Captain!?_ " Barry exclaimed at the man on top.

Though worse was when Len recognized the man beneath. " _Hart?_ I gave you that extra key for emergencies!"

Barry had never seen Captain Singh so startled and tongue-tied.

Hartley, however, groaned at being denied his meal. " _Fuck_ , Cold—it _is_ an emergency. Can't you come back later?"

" _Allen_ ," Singh gruffed out, crouching lower but not doing nearly a good enough job of covering himself, "aren't you supposed to be protecting this city instead of fraternizing?"

"Me?!" Barry cried. It wasn't like his identity was a secret to anyone here, and he did have his cowl back, but being called 'Allen' in this situation just seemed like an insult to injury. "What about you? How could you do this to Rob?"

"What's with the noise? I found the…candles…" Rob trailed off as he exited the door from the kitchen holding matches and several candles, while wearing nothing but a very immodest apron like some naughty housewife.

No one said anything for several seconds until Len finally snorted, "I assume you know who you're debauching there, _Captain_?" He had a few deals and pardons with the CCPD given he worked with The Flash and didn't participate in illegal activity too much anymore, but there were still conflicts of interest, especially with his Rogues.

"Met _Tom_ at a club," Singh said, reverted entirely to his surly disposition. "Who am I to disagree with the name someone gives me?"

"Captain of the CCPD, I coulda sworn," Len smirked.

There came that patented Singh scowl.

"Ya know, you two could always take the pool table one over," Hartley said, hard and panting and grinning like the teasing little brat he was.

Singh rolled his eyes—and damn, the man was a far better specimen than Barry had ever needed to learn firsthand—while Rob tilted his head at Barry and Len like he wouldn't be opposed to company. It was always the quiet, sweet ones who were freaks in the bedroom. Barry should know.

"Come on, Len. We'll find a safe house or something."

Len didn't immediately move when Barry nudged his shoulder. He was too busy perusing the merchandise.

" _Len._ "

"What? You're the one who keeps saying I need to play well with others."

Hartley giggled, but Barry was not in the mood, not when it included his _boss_. Zipping them both out of there at lightning speed, he nipped at Len's jawline. "Shut up. Not Singh. Ever. I can't believe what I just witnessed!"

"Given our track record, you might call it _karma_."

"Just be glad it wasn't someone _you_ never wanted to see naked."

As it turned out, they wouldn't have long to wait for that.

* * *

A safe house it was. Len gave Barry the nearest address, which might have been far enough to lose a bit of their hard-ons if they'd headed there first, but given the free show they'd just witnessed, Len was having no trouble staying excited.

He was happy for the kid. Hartley needed a good lay, and with partners like that? Damn, was he lucky. Everything he'd ever wanted, really—full attention on him as a well-kept boy. And at least Len didn't have to worry about his safety with scoundrels.

All riled up, maybe even more so with Barry so flustered, Len couldn't wait to hit the nearest mattress. He loved when anything got Barry's feathered ruffled, because it made him even more vigorous in the bedroom once Len got his attention pulled back to where it belonged.

Unfortunately, the safe house they chose was also occupied tonight.

Still seething and grumbling as he walked ahead of Len toward the bedroom from where he'd flashed them inside, Barry reached the room first and nearly yelped. Len rushed forward to see what the commotion was about, one hand reaching for his cold gun, only for Barry to whirl around and attempt to hold him back just as he reached the doorway.

Len's jaw dropped.

Cisco was handcuffed to the safe house bed, moaning up a gleeful storm, as Len's _sister_ rode him hard like the goddamn British were coming.

"Dude!" Cisco cried when he saw them.

Lisa's head whipped around, initially uncaring of Barry's presence—she even smirked a little—but she quickly covered herself when she noticed _Len_. Not that crossing her arms covered anywhere _near_ enough.

Standing there frozen, traumatized at seeing his _little sister_ , regardless of her age, Len continued reaching for his gun, because someone needed to freeze for this spectacle no matter how much Len liked Cisco!

"Len!" Barry grabbed his wrist in reprimand. "Sorry, guys! We're going! Just...enjoy. I mean continue! I mean— _shit_. Sorry!"

The image disappeared from in front of Len as he was whisked away, this time to another safe house, one much farther from where they had started, but he needed that time for his brain to return to full function. Was everyone screwing tonight? At least the next safe house was empty. Barry checked—twice.

Must be the stages of the moon or some nonsense. Either way, Len knew he could be convinced to continue what they'd started—and kept having interrupted—but it was going to take some serious work on Barry's part.

"Len? You okay?"

"On your knees, kid. I need to sear a better image into my brain."

* * *

Once a few days had passed from the night of a dozen depravities, Barry was able to subtly tease Len about the ridiculousness of it all and vice versa. Cisco was the one who avoided Len like the plague, assuming his lower half would get frozen off if they were ever within a certain radius again.

Barry knew Len adored Cisco, and he adored Cisco with Lisa, he had just never needed to see his sister in that situation. Barry tried to explain that to Cisco, but it was going to take time.

"I don't see why it's such a big deal. You got a blow job once with your sister sitting only a few feet away."

"That's different, Scarlet. And what about you? You weren't exactly jumping for joy at catching your captain with his pants down."

"Well yeah, if I'm going to see any _captain_ with his pants down, it should be _you_. I was upset and weirded out, but not mortified."

"Family is mortifying."

"Sure, sure. But at some point, you need to tell Cisco he's not on your shit list."

"He's not. I just have no problem with him thinking otherwise for a few more days."

They were headed to Henry's new house for lunch. He hadn't wanted anything to do with the old family home, too many complicated memories, but he'd still ended up buying a small place in a neighborhood that felt similar and wasn't too far from the West house either.

They were nearly a half an hour early, but Barry had been too antsy to watch the clock and decided to head over right away. His father hadn't answered his texts, but Barry was sure it was fine. Henry was likely working on lunch, and Barry and Len could lend a hand. Apparently, he had something important to tell them.

"Dad? We're here!" Barry called as they entered the foyer, similarly positioned to the living room as Joe's house, which meant the sofa was in plain view as they entered—

Len's hands came up to cover Barry's eyes.

"Len? What are you—"

"Barry!" his father's voice came next from the direction of the sofa.

" _Goodness_ ," a more muffled voice trailed him. Was that… _Tina McGee_?

" _Hey_ ," Barry tried to duck out of Len's grasp, "what's going—"

" _Barry_ ," Len maintained his hold, "don't open your eyes."

Immediately, the discussion they'd been having surged up with new relevance and Barry realized what must be going on. " _Dad?_ Are you seriously—"

"You're _early_ ," Henry's voice defended, followed by the sound of rustling clothing.

"By half an hour! How long have you— _when_ were you—"

"This was what I was going to tell you! Barry, Tina and I…have been seeing each other."

"Obviously!"

Finally, Len's hands dropped from Barry's face, leaving him to find his father buttoning up his pants while his shirt hung open, McGee in a similar state with her blouse not yet tucked into her pencil skirt, hair a-tangle. What else was Barry supposed to say? He'd seen the way his father and McGee looked at each other, had no problem with this development at all, but it was entirely different to _walk in on it_.

"Apologies, Mr. Allen— _Barry_ ," McGee corrected since she was, after all, _sleeping with his father_. "We were working on lunch and got…distracted."

Len snorted.

Barry shot him a glare.

"Oh come on, Scarlet, we're all adults here." Len slid an arm around Barry's shoulders. "We can discuss this over a meal just like we planned. You're _welcome_ ," he added as a quiet aside, no doubt meaning how Barry hadn't actually witnessed anything. Barry had mentioned to Len multiple times in the past few days that he wished he'd been able to prevent Len from seeing Lisa like that.

Softening under the circumstances, Barry turned to his father, and despite the state of him, still straightening his clothing and buttoning his shirt, Barry would never want to detract from any happiness he'd found.

"I'm sorry, Dad. It was just a surprise. Let's start over. Calm down. Have lunch. It really is nice to see you again, Dr. McGee." _Just not_ too _much of you._

They shared an awkward smile, and eventually Henry guided them into the dining room, leading Tina with a gentle hand at her back.

Len leaned toward Barry to whisper, "At least I know you'll age well."

"Shut up."

* * *

Unfortunately, Len wasn't fast enough to prevent Barry from catching _Joe and Cecile_ the next week.

"For real?! We eat on that table!"

Len snickered, because as much as he wished he'd saved Barry from the display—and my, oh my, was West a lucky man with how limber that woman was wrapped around his waist—since Len had been forced to see his sister, at least now he and Barry were even.

* * *

"I just wanted to get out of Central City for a while, okay?" Barry said as he and Len stepped into the elevator.

"And we had to come all the way to Star City to put some distance between you and your amorous father figures?"

"Urg," Barry groaned. He didn't want to think about it. It didn't help that Len's horror over seeing Lisa had all but been wiped away by Barry experiencing horror _twice_. Singh had been bad enough, but both his fathers? Barry would be nothing but happy for them if he hadn't seen it firsthand.

"Relax, Scarlet. We'll consider it vacation days and clear your head. Always wanted to see how Queen operates around here."

"You'll love the Arrow Cave," Barry said, getting a little excited to finally show Len what had been his first taste of heroism _before_ he was struck by lightning. "It's like the Labs but…more dark and brooding."

Dark was right. Barry always forgot how much drearier everything about Star City was compared to Central, but especially Oliver's hideout. Most of the lights were off since everyone was supposed to be elsewhere during the day—Oliver being mayor and Felicity running Palmer Industries, not to mention the rest of the team having day jobs. The brand-new hideout beneath what had been Oliver's campaign headquarters should have been quiet.

But as soon as Barry stepped out of the elevator with Len following, the noises that greeted them indicated something entirely different was going on.

"Please tell me that isn't what I think it is," Barry whispered, hesitant to inch too far from the elevator and catch sight of his friends rolling around on the floor, which was the only explanation for what could evoke those kinds of high-pitched whines from Felicity. At least the rest of the Arrow Cave was elevated, hiding them from view.

Or it _would have_ hidden them from view if Len didn't smirk and walk forward like he owned the place!

"Len!" Barry hissed, grasping ineffectually for his lover's coat sleeve.

Len moved to the railing of the main workstation and peered through the gap to assess the area, his eyes finally landing on something across the room that made his grin stretch and his eyes open wider. "My, my…Queen has hidden talents I didn't know about."

 _Urg_. It had been bad enough when Iris waxed poetic about Oliver's arms, now Barry had to contend with who knows what else under Len's watchful gaze?

Hurrying over, but not sure if he dared take a peek, Barry hissed at Len again. "Oliver will kill us if he catches us. He's _shot me_ for less."

"Please," Len cast him an unimpressed glance before returning his attention to whatever he was watching, while Felicity continued to whimper. "Don't we deserve a little show considering how much they've seen? And considering the eyefuls we've been getting recently?"

"We shouldn't…"

" _What_ is he attempting to do on that salmon ladder?" Len said as leadingly as possible, so that Barry couldn't _not_ wonder about what Len was looking at.

Knowing full well how pleased with himself Len was as soon as Barry sidled up closer to snag a peek of his own, Barry turned the direction Len was staring.

The only response Barry's brain could supply was… _damn_.

Felicity was attached to Oliver about the waist, stark naked save a bra that hadn't been unlatched yet, and Oliver wore only his scars and tattoos—hanging from a lower rung of the salmon ladder, while Felicity clung to his neck and rode him like they weren't currently suspended mid-air, readying himself as if he intended to reach a rung _higher_.

"Oliver…" Felicity admonished despite the whine still present in her voice.

"We'll try it once...and if it fails—"

"We _fall_ , and the last thing I want to explain to paramedics is how you sprained your—"

"We'll be fine," Oliver huffed, muscles straining, face red from equal effort and arousal. Barry had never seen Oliver's gaze so heated as he centered his attention on Felicity. "You sure you don't want to see if I can do it?"

Felicity whined again, which seemed to be answer enough, though she also nodded excitedly. "Do it, but _hurry_."

Barry held his breath. In mid-thrust, Oliver was really going to—and then _he did_. With one great swing, he hefted the bar up to the next rung, carrying his body weight plus Felicity, still connected.

"Wow, he's… _strong_ ," Barry sighed.

A grumble sounded from Len. "And _you're_ supposed to be the jealous one?"

Barry nudged Len with an elbow but quickly returned to the show because Felicity had started to move with gusto. Although it also appeared Oliver might be losing his grip.

"Felicity…we have to drop."

" _What?_ But I'm so _close_."

"F-Felicity…"

"Need a hand?" Len shouted, causing several things to happen at once—first, for Barry to gape at him, assuming Len had lost his mind, then for Oliver and Felicity to whip their attention toward their audience, which consequently made Oliver's fingers loosen and—

"Shit!" Barry cried, racing forward to catch his falling friends. He might have dilated time a little longer than necessary to get a good look before he eased their fall. He was only human.

Oliver appeared more startled than anything. Felicity was the incensed one.

" _Barry Allen_! What is wrong with you? When did you get here? How much did you see?!"

"Still seeing quite a bit, Miss Smoak," Len walked onto the platform while Barry zipped back to his side to avoid Felicity's wrath, "and not complaining so far."

"Snart…" Oliver said warningly. He and Felicity were still…attached.

"Impressive, Queen. Any other feats you'd like to demonstrate?"

" _Len_."

Felicity groaned, which Barry wasn't entirely sure was for the situation or her current position on top of Oliver. "Just coz I watched you two knockin' boots a couple of times."

"I'm sorry, okay," Barry jumped into a rant, trying to look at Felicity's face and not make it too obvious how nice the rest of the view was, "I couldn't stop him, I—wait. A _couple_ of times?" he narrowed his eyes at her.

She was almost worse than him when it came to forcing a fake innocent face. "I meant…a couple _between_ me and Oliver."

"No she didn't," Oliver let his head drop back to the floor, hands patting Felicity's thighs, resigned to his predicament. "Her codename is _Overwatch_ and she has access to every CCTV in Central City."

"Felicity!"

"Hey, I'm the naked one right now!"

Barry dragged a hand down his face as he considered every location and position he and Len had fucked their way around the city. It was an impressive list, which made it more insane if Felicity had been watching the whole time. "What is wrong with our friends?" he groaned, knowing of course that he was being a complete hypocrite.

Which Len felt the need to voice, "Like you don't enjoy being watched."

"I prefer knowing when it's happening," Barry spat, before turning back to point a scolding finger at Felicity. "No more free shows." Then he shrugged. "Ask first."

"Such a wholesome example you set for the kids, Scarlet," Len snickered.

"Can we _please_ have some privacy and pretend this never happened?" Oliver spoke over top them, looking flustered and eager to continue where he and Felicity left off before he could no longer get back in the mood.

"What do we get in exchange for Felicity having camera access all over Central City?" Barry asked.

"Video copies?" she offered.

"Deal," Len spoke before Barry could. "Have a nice lunch break, Mr. Mayor."

"Hey, wait—"

But Len grabbed Barry's arm to drag him from the room before anything else could be said, hissing in his ear once they got into the elevator, "We're finding a quiet corner, Scarlet. You can give me that tour later. As an unrelated aside…how are you on a salmon ladder?"

* * *

Len had to admit that the little sneak preview of Arrow and Overwatch was rousing to say the least. Certainly a better eyeful than most of what they'd been getting lately, given the collection of family members.

Be that as it may, his libido had been in full form the past several weeks. He wondered sometimes if Barry's pheromones were hyperactive like the rest of him due to the Speed Force, and that they'd infected him over time. Best side-effect to sleeping with a meta human Len could imagine.

And given his current state, snagging Barry along for Legends missions was bound to be productive, though a late mission and a few wounds not quite bad enough to trouble Gideon over, meant he and Barry had both wanted to crash afterward. Unfortunately, Len was so overtired, that even though Barry conked out after thirty seconds, he was still awake an hour later.

Shuffling his way to the mess hall for something warm to sooth him to sleep—maybe cocoa; Barry couldn't mock him for his sweets addiction while unconscious—Len assumed the rooms other than the crew quarters would be empty. He learned otherwise when he murmured, "Lights," upon entering the kitchen.

The illumination didn't only shed light on the table, but on a pair of lithe bodies spread over it. Namely, _Sara_ in a long T-shirt rucked up to expose her chest, panties down at her ankles, while _Nyssa_ leaned between her thighs in nothing but a tank top.

Len stared, too tired to form a response, especially since he'd never had the pleasure of seeing either femme fatale undressed.

"Before you kill me, I only came for cocoa. Although the pleasant dreams I have in my future might help me get to sleep…"

"Leonard…" Sara panted with a warning edge.

"Just admiring the view." Len tilted his head. "Though since I value my life, I'll—"

"I don't mind," Nyssa's gently accented voice purred from her intimate position. "As long as you don't attempt to join us, Mr. Snart." Her grin was wicked as she kissed Sara's inner thigh and slowly worked her way back center.

Sara's neck arched and legs crooked up at the knees.

Len had always been more hands-on than interested in porn, but he couldn't deny the appeal of a free visual up close. "Much as part of me appreciates the invite, ladies, I'm more so wondering if my own partner would be up for some late-night debauchery. You two are…inspirational."

Sara's litany of moans was a testament to Nyssa's skill with her tongue, not that Len had ever doubted either of their skills with anything. Regardless, he only watched a moment more before the part of him quickly becoming _more_ awake demanded attention that only a miracle boy in crimson could attend to.

"Gideon…lights."

* * *

Barry wasn't entirely pleased that Len had gotten an eyeful without him. Sara Lance and Nyssa al Ghul were basically Bond girls—highly trained, incredibly intelligent, undeniably beautiful—and Len had seen them both half undressed! It just seemed unfair, considering up until now they'd always been together when catching amorous pairs in public. Anything involving their doppelgangers was entirely different. It was _them_! But their friends…

Being on the Waverider was a recipe for disaster, Barry decided, much as he enjoyed the missions, and any excuse to work with Len. And the Fabricator room. Rip tried to deny them entry, but Gideon always overrode his controls and let them in anyway.

At any rate, Barry was done with this ship for a while now that their mission was over. He couldn't wait to get home, seclude Len in their own bed, and have some private time with no threat of anyone being around other than—

"Oh my god!" Barry exclaimed, realizing too late that he'd take a left instead of a right at the bathrooms and had walked into Mick's room—where the pyro had Ray bent over the bench press. "Is there anyone on this ship not sleeping together?!"

"Barry!" Ray clammed up and tried to shrink in on himself, which was not easy at almost 6'3".

Mick, however, didn't even slow his thrusts—both of them naked, shiny with sweat, _writhing_. "You started it, Red," he growled.

The moan that tore from Ray was _filthy_ when Mick gave a tug at his hair, and before Barry could stop the instant reaction aided by his meta human metabolism, he was hard. He didn't even find larger, muscly men that attractive, but…wow, Mick was impressive looking rocking into Ray like that.

As soon as the scarred yet entirely pleasing to look at man smirked at him and Ray dropped off into a string of plaintive curses, Barry turned on his heel and retreated with an immediate bee-line for Len waiting for him in the kitchen. He doubted he'd be able to resist mauling his boyfriend before they found a private corner of the ship, but at least they were even again.

* * *

The ship couldn't land back in 2017 fast enough, since now Len _and_ Barry had both gotten a free show, but the trip wasn't over yet.

When Len finally escaped the confines of their room and how much Barry had needed to get seeing Mick and Ray out of his system, he headed for the Captain's quarters to find out what the damn hold up was already before they'd be called to strap into their chairs for the trip home…when he discovered why they'd been delayed.

Gideon had to be pumping something through the ventilation system because even the curmudgeonly _Time Master_ himself was getting some—with his cowboy.

Len's mouth was still open in preparation to speak when he stumbled upon Rip in nothing but his duster—which Len knew had once been Hex's duster—along with the other man's cowboy hat to finish the ensemble, while the rough rider rode something far more unruly than a stallion.

"Gideon!" Rip called, and almost instantly, the door shut in Len's face.

"Apologies, Mr. Snart. The captain is indisposed at the moment."

"You don't say? Synthesize a fruit basket for me, will ya, Gideon?"

"Certainly, sir."

* * *

Len's constant jokes about the Waverider being the 'ship of dreams' was not a funny Titanic reference when it was referencing just how many people were having sex in a twenty-four-hour period! Barry was glad to be home, where close-quarters and death-defying missions were far away, and so were insatiable appetites—other than his own.

Or so he'd hoped, but given that all of this had started at Saints and Sinners right in Central City, Barry shouldn't have been surprised when the next pair he and Len walked in on was the only pair left.

"With _Julian?_ Really?" Barry _hated_ that guy.

Caitlin looked more annoyed at the interruption than offended while scrambling to cover herself, which nearly toppled her and Julian off the tiny med room bed. "I didn't think you'd be back until tomorrow!"

"How does that make this okay?!"

"Honestly, Allen," Julian broke in with his usual disdainful tone despite having his slacks at his knees, "considering what _you_ get up to at the office—"

Barry threw his hands into the air and stormed away, grabbing Len along with him. Caitlin deserved whatever happiness she could find after the things she'd been through, and Barry knew his opinion on the matter didn't take precedence over what she, as a grown woman, wanted—but did it have to be Julian?!

"I still think young Mr. Albert is jealous. No wonder he's following in our footsteps."

" _Shut it._ And wipe that look off your face! This is not an opportunity for group fun!"

"You gotta hand it to the doc for boldness though. Didn't think she had it in her. And what a spoilsport you are, Scarlet. I thought you liked the good doctor."

"Not enough to have a foursome with Julian Albert!"

"Yet another version of you and me is entirely normal and above board."

Barry grumbled louder, seconds away from flashing out of the building and letting Len make his own way at glacial speed.

And speaking of glacial, the thermostat in the Labs had to be busted, because the med room had been suspiciously freezing.

* * *

Weeks of this ridiculousness. _Weeks._ Barry sat on his and Len's sofa and stared at the dormant TV, apparently considering his life choices. Len could sympathize.

"Maybe we should have sex less out in the open. Just for a little while."

"You're probably right." Len didn't argue the point, but carried over a couple beers and some mail he'd meant to open. "Can't stay out of the public eye forever. We've been lucky to not make the 6 o'clock news yet. Huh." He eyed a package with no real return address, just a snowflake stamp. "Cisco must have dropped this off. It's Citizen Cold's symbol. What would he be sending us from Earth-2?"

Barry looked on curiously, taking a quick swig from his beer as Len opened the package. Inside was an unmarked DVD with a note.

 _THOUGHT OF YOU TWO. NEXT LETTER WILL BE A 'SAVE THE DATE'. BARRY WANTS TO KNOW WHEN TO EXPECT YOURS. HOPE YOU'RE KEEPING THE PEACE. –CITIZEN_

"Save the date. Funny." Len shook his head, then handed the DVD to Barry.

In a flash, Barry had placed the disc in their player and sat back on the sofa while turning on the TV to see what had prompted their doppelgangers to share this with them. The reasoning became apparent in about the first two seconds of the video.

The camera came into focus on what was clearly Earth-2 Barry's bespectacled face. When he leaned away from clicking record on the camera, he proved to be wearing nothing but his fiancé's hooded, sleeveless coat. Citizen Cold was in frame on the bed, also naked.

"Well, well," Len gulped. "Given what we were talking about, I assume you're not in the mood—"

"Hang on a minute," Barry stopped Len before he could reach for the remote.

Other Barry crawled onto the bed, a long black bar of some sort in hand, which proved to have Velcro straps at the ends, as well as two near the center. First, he placed Citizen's ankles in the straps at each edge, then his wrists in the middle, displaying him in a very lewd and tantalizing presentation.

"What…is that thing?"

"Spreader bar," Len said without pause.

"How do you—?"

"Been researching. Never used one before. Why? Like the view?"

"Very much."

"Might need to grab us a couple extra beers for this," Len cleared his throat when Other Barry began setting various toys on the bed, including a long string of black balls connected by string.

Earth-2 Barry was not the dominant type, as they'd learned firsthand, but they'd also learned how much he wanted to exercise those muscles after meeting Len and Barry from this earth. Clearly, this was one of his attempts to push his boundaries, and so far, he was starting out beautifully.

The part Len didn't think he'd get so caught up in but found increasingly hot was how, through it all, the kid kept his glasses on.

Len wasn't used to his own voice sounding so needy until Other Barry started teasing his bound lover, everything heightened by the position the spreader bar forced him into—a strain on his muscles, keeping him wide open for Barry's enjoyment. The first three balls went in impressively easy.

Other Barry didn't say much, not as used to dirty talking like Len's Barry, but when he did, it was breathy and low.

"You like that, Lenny?"

"You're so beautiful like this. All for me."

"Should I fuck you, Lenny, or ride you til your voice gives out?"

 _Damn_. Len and Barry's pants were both down by this point, stroking themselves, then moving to touch each other with fervent want.

Len felt compelled to cater to Barry more than accept attention himself, given the show they were watching, that familiar face leading someone who looked almost exactly like Len through throes of passion he'd obviously never known before, not like this.

Dropping to his knees beneath Barry on the sofa, Len sucked his speedster in for a good long while before it annoyed him that he could no longer see what was happening on the TV, so he moved back onto the couch to attend to Barry from a sideways approach.

When Other Barry chose to release his lover from his bonds so he could straddle him, and at the same time slowly— _so slowly_ —pulled each of those implanted balls free until the last one made Citizen whimper, the kid had clearly won his dominance merit badge. Being 'top' or 'bottom' had nothing to do with who was in charge.

"We need to have sex," Barry nodded to himself, scratching gentle nails over Len's head as he was mouthed leisurely, no hurry at all in Len's pace. "Right now. But we should _definitely_ stay inside the apartment."

Len pulled his lips free with a grin. He knew when Barry was angling to be convinced of something _other_ than what he'd said. "How about the balcony?"

Chewing his lip, Barry eyed Len's face in his lap. "Okay, but then we _have_ to try to work on our exhibitionist streak."

"Sure, Scarlet."

It had been more of a voyeuristic streak lately anyway.

They turned off the TV and hurried to the balcony, losing their remaining clothes along the way. It was more a fire escape, hidden in the dark alley between buildings, the perfect place to be bad without being too public.

Barry threw a thick padded blanket down and encouraged Len to climb on top of him once he'd laid back. He found Len's entrance with nimble fingers and prepared him until Len begged to be filled with more. Only one man could ever get him to beg like that.

"Hey." Barry glanced toward the alley after the first couple thrusts. "I think they can see us."

Turning to look as well, Len saw that the neighbors across the way were silhouetted in the door of their own balcony, one enjoying a cigarette. "Backlit like this, they can only see shadows."

"Sure, but...they can tell what those shadows are _doing_."

"You care?"

Barry gazed up at Len, his expression making it very clear what he cared about most.

With the feeling of eyes watching them, Len continued to ride his Scarlet, determined to stretch this out until they were spent.

* * *

Across the alley, the neighbor with a cigarette snuffed it out. He only indulged in one at most once a week, usually on nights like this.

"Do you think they have any idea we know that's them?" asked the younger man beside him.

"Apparently not. How Allen ever kept his identity a secret…"

"Ever the mystery," Hartley snorted.

"Come on, boys, don't keep me waiting!" Rob called from inside.

David never did like to keep his husband waiting. "After you, Hart."

"Yes, sir, Captain sir," Hartley gave a quick salute before turning around to obey.

* * *

TBC…


	17. I learned a new trick

Barry spent the next several weeks calling out loudly any time he was about to enter a room where he didn't know exactly what to expect, just in case they stumbled upon any of the couples they'd already seen amorously involved, or any new ones for that matter. It figured that the moment he dropped his guard again was the next time he got an eyeful.

Linda was visiting. Barry liked Linda, even if things hadn't worked out for them and she'd ended up moving away. She was considering coming back to town now, however, and her and Iris were out having a girl's day.

Apparently, Barry didn't understand what a 'girl's day' entailed because it should not involve him walking into a random room at STAR Labs, where at most Iris should be giving Linda a tour, only to discover Linda panting as she leaned against the wall with Iris on her knees.

NOPE.

That was one of Barry's exes! Who he hadn't even managed to successfully _be_ with, with his…his…IRIS. Sure, he'd long since extinguished that torch, and he was happy to see Iris happy, regardless of who that might be with, but he didn't need visual proof!

" _Why?"_ He clamped his hands over his eyes. "Why does everyone use this place like a hotel? Do you not have homes of your own?"

"I'm _visiting_ ," Linda called out.

"Iris?"

"Sorry, Barr." At least she sounded sympathetic.

Wally…not so much when, only a few days later, Barry was headed down to the portal room, expecting that at most he'd catch Wally and Jesse saying goodbye after her brief visit, and instead saw—well, he didn't _see_ much of anything initially, just a blur of lightning and the smell of ozone and copper in the air, before he dilated time to catch up and saw what was actually happening.

No one else could experience what Wally and Jesse were able to do together—Len barely would have been able to focus on what was going on—but two speedsters could stretch marathon sex into hours of vigorous contact that, from an onlooker's perspective, would have seemed like merely a few minutes of fireworks.

It was beautiful while Barry was in synch with their speed, the writhing of their bodies, dark and creamy skin against each other, with a swirl of lightning around them as they moved, making use of various surfaces. But it was still Barry's _brother_ , which was almost worse than seeing Iris.

"Sorry!" he shouted the moment the pair's eyes locked with his and he dropped back to normal speed to break the connection, covering his eyes as he dashed out of the room to leave them alone.

Wally didn't apologize later so much as blush and rub the back of his neck as he glanced at Barry and said very quietly, "Dude, speedster sex is otherworldly. I wish you could try it."

Barry knew he didn't mean it as an invitation, though it was a little unfair to mention, given the only speedster options were Wally, Wally's girlfriend, a man who was basically Barry's own father, and several psychopaths. That and Barry didn't actually want anyone other than Len.

Though it did start him wondering whether or not he could manage to speed Len up with him for a night…

He figured he'd ask Harry for advice on time dilation, since he was the least likely to understand why Barry would want to speed someone up with him. Paranoia had him realizing too late to stop his forward momentum into the room, however, when he heard grunting sounds until he was already passing the corner—

"Please tell me you're not—"

And Harry whipped around after a final heave to unscrew part of a tachyon emitter, his face red from exertion.

"Oh thank god."

"What?" Harry scowled at him.

"Nothing! Just, uhh…" Definitely not the time to mention the speedster sex in any great detail, "bad luck lately. Can I bug you for a minute?"

As it turned out, Harry had quite a few theories on time dilation and how Barry could resonate a frequency that cocooned him and a partner in a time bubble, allowing someone without a connection to the Speed Force to experience what he did, stretching out a moment into minutes on end and even hours.

Barry was going to have so much fun showing Len later.

* * *

All Len said he wanted was a mini vacation, in part because they both needed to get away from their overly amorous friends and family—not to say anything for their own amorousness; maybe there was something in the water in Central City. And Star City. And on the Waverider…

But regardless, the real reason he wanted to get away was so he could properly divest himself of something he'd been meaning to get rid of for weeks without success. Namely, finding the right time to remove the small velvet box in his pocket from burning a hole there.

No time ever seemed right. At first, it was too soon after getting that 'Save the Date' from Citizen Cold. Len didn't want Barry thinking he was only asking because he wanted to outdo his double. Then there were civilians to save, villains to fight, chaos in the streets, or far too many of their teams around for the right privacy.

Besides, Len didn't do anything small or simple. Someone like him proposing to his idiot, miracle boyfriend needed to be handled with the right finesse. He just hadn't figured out what that was yet, and no idea he came up with seemed right.

During a heist?

During a mission?

All romantic at a restaurant hidden in a dessert?

Like their doubles and just popping the question in the kitchen one morning to get it over with?

No, Len wanted something more memorable, both romantic and unexpected. Something that would feel like them without being too obvious.

The last place he expected to pop the question was at some cheesy carnival. Even if it was more of a standing amusement park in Coast City where they'd decided to get away for a few days, hit the beach—not that Len _did_ the beach, but he enjoyed watching Barry splash through the waves and sun himself while Len kept to the shade and read.

It was their first evening there, and if Len waited any longer, he'd never be able to relax and enjoy the vacation. Barry wanted to see the park before spending the rest of the night in their hotel room, so Len could abide, and when he saw what he assumed was a Tunnel of Love, he thought this— _this_ is appropriately ridiculous and dramatic enough to be just right.

One hand holding Barry's, the other in his pocket enclosing the box, he steeled his nerves before the boat arrived…

Only for four other people to get in their boat with them.

It was more like a Pirates of the Caribbean knockoff than a Tunnel of Love, jungle themed but still family friendly. Their boat-mates were four college students. Lovely. At least Len and Barry got the back, but he couldn't propose like this.

"I thought we'd be alone," Barry whispered in disappointment.

"Me too."

"Though they're not really paying attention to us back here. You know what this reminds me of?" Barry's grin was full of mischief, especially in the dark, the boat ride shadowed and full of ambient noises like they were traveling down a bayou.

"Barry…"

"Think anyone would notice if I slipped my hand down your pants?"

 _Oh no_. And damn was it a turn on because it harkened back to their first amorous encounter, but now was not the time.

" _Barry_ ," Len hissed more fiercely, but the boy had already started to undo his slacks and slipped his hand inside Len's underwear.

Even when one of the college kids glanced back, it was too dark for them to see anything, but at this point in their exhibitionist relationship, Len didn't care about that. He cared if Barry felt the ring box!

"Relax," Barry said close at his ear, long deft fingers sliding in deeper and curling possessively around him. "No one will catch us. I learned a new trick I've been dying to show you."

"Trick?"

A spark of lightning danced from Barry's shoulders, and Len feared he was about to give himself away, even if they were in another city, but as the sparks expanded around them like a shield that made Len's heartbeat stutter, everything else, boat included drifting along the water, came to a sudden stop.

"How…"

"I want to share this with you, Len, so much more than vibrations or a simple spark."

 _The Speed Force_. Len had been a passenger many times, but he'd never been fully inside it, at least not at a speed where he was aware of what he was witnessing. Everything beyond their bubble stilled and there was only him, Barry, and the moment at hand.

As a _hand_ down the front of his pants continued to stroke him.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with your most recent visual aids, would it?" Len asked.

"Only for inspiration. Why should they have all the fun?" Barry said a little louder now that nearby ears could no longer hear them.

That sounded like a wonderful idea, Len thought, as Barry moved to straddle him, hand still buried deep and fingers caressing—until he remembered that Barry could feel the ring box in his pocket at any moment!

"We are _not_ having sex on this boat." He pushed Barry away from him before their lips could meet in a heated kiss, trying to remind himself that it wasn't only because of the ring; having sex in public, literally in front of strangers, however slowed to obscurity, was definitely indecent behavior. Not that that had stopped them before.

"No?" Barry kissed the tip of Len's nose, his hand slowing, fingers tightening. "We can save the real show for later then, keep things simple."

The slow pace Barry set of just his hand working, straddling Len but only just barely touching him, sent a shiver up Len's spine that he couldn't shake away. He wanted this, however dangerous, with sparks around them like a whole new world to experience.

"Why can I never say no to you?" he said, drawing Barry forward to kiss him, tugging him closer still by the waist to grind them together more than just accepting Barry's hand.

"Because," Barry giggled within their connection before he disconnected, "saying yes is more fun. If it's really okay?" He pulled up, startled and serious.

This man, always worried about what was right, especially doing right by Len. "It's okay," he said, touching Barry's face with a drag of his thumb, loving and full of promise, so the boy knew there was nothing about this he didn't want. "It is better than okay."

Renewing their kiss, Len lapped at Barry's tongue and held him close, rocking up against him—against his _hand_ , against his body so close to his own. He wanted to get at Barry too, ensure that his Scarlet felt just as much sensation in their private chamber of the Speed Force that— _wow_ , didn't feel like stalled time so much as invigorating _now_.

How could Len describe it? He wondered if this was how Barry felt all the time, energized and eager and like he could take on the whole world, while everything else got left behind. For once, Len was right there with him keeping pace, tingly and enriched by this miracle meta who wanted him even though he could have anyone and anything he desired. Regardless, he wanted _Len_. And he had him. He could have him forever if only he'd say _yes_.

Within their kiss and Barry's attentive fingers, Len sought out the clasp of Barry's jeans to make them even, and sank his hand into the soft flesh he never tired of touching. With Barry in his lap, they writhed, hands stroking in time together, tongues languid in how they twirled. Len could truly spend forever here, and with the Speed Force keeping them cocooned, he honestly might.

He'd been so nervous leading up to this moment, he felt his end coming quickly, though he imagined they could make up for that many times over when they got back to the hotel. So he let himself feel this, let himself get close and then right on the edge. A broken whine left him when he finally came, and with his release, Barry picked up his pace too, thrusting against Len's hand, desperate in Len's lap to finish with him, until he came with an equally satisfied shudder, and no one else around them was the wiser.

Barry panted against Len's lips, while his left sought purchase to steady himself so he wouldn't fall forward. "What's this…?" he mumbled as his hand rested on the pocket with the ring.

Len was too sated to care, even when Barry startled as he extracted the strange shape he'd found. "As it turns out, occasionally I am terrible with timing."

Nodded, Len watched in amusement as Barry's eyes went wide with realization that he was holding a velvet box that could only be holding one thing. Opening it with wonder, Barry instantly grew close to tears as he took in the carefully designed gold band etched with lightning bolts and snowflakes. Len planned to have his own made identical in silver.

"Would you like to make this official, Scarlet?"

"But…you said—"

"And _you_ said that we could make it work. I've long since given up trying to beat you. You win…Flash," Len whispered close, holding his treasure in his arms, sticky and sweaty as they were but so content.

Barry's eyes filled with moisture, taking out the ring but pressing it into Len's hands, the box falling to the floor of the boat, because he wanted Len to put the ring on him, and he did—careful and smooth, until it rested where Len hoped it would remain for the rest of their days.

" _We_ win," Barry said.

"Is that a yes?"

" _Yes_ ," Barry laughed, as only he could, exuberant and charming enough to pull Len right into his orbit.

An orbit Len slowly began to realize, only after several moments had passed, was dwindling from an atmosphere of electric light and safety to simply being the real world again because of Barry's distraction.

Barry kissed him strong and firm before Len could warn the boy that their Speed Force bubble had been popped.

"Oh my god!" one of the college girls squealed.

After that, considering that from their perspective the ride had only just began, there was quite a bit of screaming, and they barely made it halfway before the ride was stopped to figure out what had gone array. Needless to say, Barry and Len were instructed to never show their faces at the carnival again, not that Len cared. Coast City was overrated.

And he was engaged. To the love of his life.

Barry lived up to his namesake the entire way back to the hotel, bright red with embarrassment. "I swear I'll get the hang of shared time dilation. I was distracted!"

"Well, Scarlet, I hope to keep you distracted indefinitely, so maybe we should try that new trick of yours indoors where no one can catch us."

Barry agreed, though they may have opened the balcony doors—and windows—to keep things exciting while they broke in the bed they had several nights yet to get enjoyment out of. Making love with Barry in the Speed Force made Len feel ageless, _eternal_ , and happy in ways he couldn't describe, but then that was life with Barry anyway, the new trick just meant they got to enjoy each moment a little longer.

Sparks continued to dance across their bodies once they were spent in bed, lying together while Barry held his ring up to the light and watched it sparkle.

"You really want to spend the rest of your life with me, Len?"

"Longer, if there is such a thing. Anything less would be _criminal_."

Barry laughed—the best sound Len ever got to hear.

Getting kicked out of the carnival had been worth it. Barry was always worth it, worth every embarrassment, misstep, and possibility before them. As a friend, a partner, a lover, and even on those rare occasions in public…

…when they still pretended to be enemies.

* * *

THE END


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